Author's note: Please ignore the historical inaccuracies for the next couple chapters haha! Also, ignore the swapping POV's. I usually don't do this because it's lazy but with this chapter, I… I gave up lol.

Chapter 37

When Maurice called Belle to sit at their family table when it was neither lunch nor supper, she knew she was about to be put on the spot. Her father was rarely decisive in this manner, but she had noticed the past couple of days, how he had attempted to have this conversation with her to no avail. She had managed to avoid the confrontation, even if just for a little while, so she could come to terms with… Well, everything.

Her father's eyes were bright and earnest when he asked the questions she knew had been plaguing his heart and she answered them best she could. She explained her odd behaviour concerning their post, how she had not even begun to make a dent in repaying their debts, how she had been sent away, and how it had been the Prince in person who had really paid off their debts.

"He is not what people think," pressed Belle as she saw her father about to retort back in confusion. "He has a tragic past and does not trust people easily. He wants to help me, with furthering my education, but insists he wants nothing in return. Papa, he repaid our debts knowing we could never hope to pay them back ourselves."

"But my darling Belle," said Maurice, frustration and anguish rising in his croaky voice as he took hold of his daughter's hands, hers so long and thin compared his rough and stubby ones.

"Why would he single you out in this way?" he asked, lowering his voice as he heard several passers walk in front of their cottage. "Why would he help you? Even if there were such a thing as a good-natured and kind aristocrat of his standing, why even then it is hard to imagine such a person taking an interest in… You know I love you Belle and think the world of you, but… We are common folk! The idea that a Duke would be concerned about the welfare, let alone the education of a person, a woman even! A servant! Belle, you must understand it sounds positively preposterous! These past few months, I have thought of only the worst! He didn't hurt you, did he?! Didn't ask for things in return?"

Belle felt her stomach clench. She knew this was the true fear her father had held, yet she had failed to calm his worries, simply because she was too scared to approach the subject, too scared to consider she had been naïve and the Prince had simply tired of her. But the old lady's words had helped her realize her own feelings, as well as the fact that the Prince had likely not acted out of fear, unlike what Belle had been doing ever since she had returned to Villeneuve. Pushing her feelings down a glass bottle, hoping the cork would hold the pressure down.

Well the cork and glass had split and broken apart with only the slightest touch.

"It's my fault papa," said Belle, her voice almost cold as her father blinked before continuing to stare at her. "He didn't hurt me, not directly. He didn't mean, I think, he didn't mean to do anything, just as I didn't…"

Belle tried to stop all the complicated little emotions running through herself from spilling out into her eyes but lying had never been her strong suit and unlike the Prince, she had never had a need for masks until now.

"He hurt you," said Maurice in a low voice as he curled up his right hand into a fist on the top of their well-worn table top.

"Not deliberately!" exclaimed Belle as she took hold of her father's hand again, realizing she had to open his eyes. "Oh, papa, you will think very ill of me but you must understand. It was foolish, I should have known better than to get too close to someone who is so different, on every level… Yet I felt like for the first time I was speaking to someone on an equal level, I didn't feel out of place at all, and he listened to me and my thoughts even though he had no reason to. I suppose I must make peace with it and move on. I must wake up and face reality. He let me go because he knew it was foolish to progress any further. He respected me and my position, but I failed to see it that way at the time. I'm not a heroine in a fairy tale, stuck in a castle…"

"Belle?"

Belle hadn't realized she had been rambling, but as she had taken hold of her warm, comforting father's hand, she realized the depth of her feelings was far greater than she had previously presumed. She had been foolish to hope coming back home would simply resolve everything. That she could simply forget.

"Papa, would it be so bad to move away from Villeneuve?" Belle found herself saying as she looked up at him with renewed energy. "I want to explore the world, surely we could do it together?"

Seeing the shadows slowly covering her father's eyes, Belle immediately realized her folly in suggesting such a thing. He was considering it, she could tell, but realistically they both knew it was impractical on every level.

"My daughter…" Maurice murmured, which Belle reacted to with surprise. All hint of worry which had previously lined his face had disappeared, only to be replaced by something else.

He looked oddly… wise.

"Just like her mother…" she heard him whisper as he shook his head before proceeding to pat the back of her hand.

Belle frowned.

"Do you trust him?" said Maurice after a moment, his blue eyes warm and understanding as he looked at her patiently.

"What?"

Of all the reactions she had imagined he father to have, this had not been one of them.

"The way I see it Belle, he wants to help you," began Maurice before letting out a deep sigh and contemplating his words. "Regardless of the emotional complications, for as long as I can remember, you have always stood on the top of that hill, wanting to have more, something beyond the horizon. Somehow, I knew it would come one day… You are your mother's daughter, so it was inevitable I suppose. Is it so bad, to let go of your insecurities, to stay true to what that little girl wanted? Is it not really about what happened with the Prince? Is it not simply, that you are scared, after all this time, of actually achieving something you've always wanted? Even if it is with the aid of others?"

Throughout their conversation, both Maurice and Belle had begun to hear more and more people scuttling about outside their home, at first a few hesitant footsteps before eventually the small group of people had turned into a large crowd, which was now speaking amongst themselves, whispers and talk which had grown into a sea of chaotic sound. Until now, too consumed by their conversation, Maurice and Belle had turned a deaf ear to it, but as Belle stopped to consider her father's words, they both realized the highly peculiar sound and the improbability that such a crowd would be standing around their home at such an odd time as this.

"Belle?" uttered Maurice as he turned to look at the door and fogged up windows, where he could see shadows of people leaning over the railings into their vegetable patch.

"Yes, Papa?" said Belle hesitantly as she turned slowly and did the same.

"Why is half the village standing by our front door?"

"I have no idea," whispered Belle incredulously just as someone knocked sharply on the door.

"Stay here," said Maurice firmly before standing up and moving to the entrance. "I don't know what's going on out there, but I would appreciate it if you would leave the premises immediately!"

"It's me, D'Arque!"

Maurice stepped back in surprise before approaching the door again.

"What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, raising his voice so he could be heard above all the noise coming from outside.

"Will you please just let me in so I can explain?!"

Maurice turned to look at her daughter, who only changed her expression to encourage him to let the debt collector inside.

The old man took one deep breath in and out in order to prepare himself before opening the door.

He was unprepared.

It was not half the village, more like the whole village, and the moment he opened the door he was faced with voices coming at him left right and center as he heard various questions being thrown his way, all unintelligible of course, as he stared off down the road, where the crowd continued. Maurice did not even realize D'Arque had swiftly past by him, only when the debt collector had closed the door did he realize the grim faced man had entered his home.

"It took me forever to get through all that," he was grumbling as he turned to bow towards Belle. "Mademoiselle…. It has been some time."

"Indeed," said Belle quickly as she stood up. "Excuse me, but what have you come here in such haste? I do not think any debts remain after-"

"I am not here about debts," said D'Arque bluntly, as he turned to look at Maurice who still stood by the door in shock. "I am sorry for the commotion, but I promise it will all make sense in due course. I did not expect the news to travel so quickly, although I am amazed as a result that you have remained ignorant of the fact."

"I'm sorry D'Arque but what on earth are you talking about?" said Maurice in frustration as he walked towards him. "What on earth is going on out there?"

D'Arque paused before giving Maurice a long stare. His eyes were dark, almost like pitch, but Belle saw they held a certain wariness about them which she had never seen before.

"I must take you and Belle to Paris, we have not a moment to lose," he began as he turned to look at Belle also with certain apprehension. "Maurice, both your brother-in-laws are dead, the family is childless, and as a result everything has been left to you. You- or rather Belle must claim the inheritance. They changed their will some time ago."

Maurice stared at D'Arque, his face white and ashen. He looked suddenly very tired and haggard, as if he were seeing a ghost.

"I don't understand," he said flatly.

"Maurice, listen to me!" said D'Arque firmly as he came closer and shook Belle's father, as if it would wake him from this odd trance he was in. Belle felt fear enter her heart, for it was as if her father was no longer there and had been replaced by some other being, an empty shell of her warm and kind father.

"They regretted what happened, they tried to find you for years, I only came about the younger brother by happenstance. They changed their will, they believed either she or her descendent was still alive. They asked me to find you!"

"What are you talking about?" blurted Belle finally, unable to take much more of being ignorant. "My father never talked about my mother, I assumed she had no family!"

D'Arque turned slowly to look at Belle in astonishment before taking a step back away from Maurice to look at him with a rather critical eye.

"You told her nothing?" he said scathingly as Maurice continued to stare at the ground.

D'Arque closed his eyes, the grim expression on his face leaving him as his mouth slumped downward in exhaustion.

"I didn't expect this to be hard," he muttered before turning to look at Belle.

"They are your blood relatives, mademoiselle. Your mother was not a nobody, she was part of an aristocratic family, more specifically the Géroux family. Her name was Belle Géroux, your grandfather was the Count of Géroux and they own some land not far off from-"

"Stop."

D'Arque turned around to see Maurice looked at him with narrowed eyes. It was clear he did not trust him.

"We left Paris for a reason," Belle's father began as she felt her mind swirl in confusion, as if this were all some strange dream. "Her mother told me to never let Belle become sucked into that world, that we were better off free, poor as we were. I made a promise to her."

"You may not believe me, but I have proof," said D'Arque as he pulled something out of his coat, which was drenched in mud. He did not have time to go over the complicated matters, could only show the facts. What they chose to do with it was up to them, he could not interfere.

The debt collector passed the papers to Maurice, including the note from Belle's great uncle, the will of the Géroux family which managed to track down, the marriage certificate and birth certificate he found under their false names in the district office where their previous residence was closest to, and a silver piece, a small bell which had clearly been made for a child.

D'Arque took the time during the odd silence to look outside. The crowd was getting restless but then suddenly the buzzing noise seems to quieten down.

Too quickly, in his opinion.

D'Arque looked back towards Maurice who was looking at him with reawakened eyes, and suddenly he looked like a young man again.

"Where did you find all this?"

D'Arque remained silently, simply stepping towards Maurice and pointing towards the name the old man in the debtor prison had written in his hastily put together note.

"That is you, isn't it?" said D'Arque as he pointed towards the name. "Claude Benoit."

Belle could hardly believe her ears, it was too much, too much to process all at once, she thought she had been the only one to hide things from her father, but now it felt as if she hardly knew him, her own father!

Yet there was no time to ponder, to think, for before any of them could react, a knock came on the door once more. As they all froze and looked towards the battered old thing, the rap on the door came once again, this time in an urgent manner.

D'Arque was the quickest to respond and as he opened the wooden latch, they were all met with only odd silence, despite the fact that there were hundreds of people standing outside. It soon became apparent however that a massive carriage stood by the garden, which had obviously forced the people apart, and as a footman stepped aside, they heard the lone footsteps of a man walking up the side of their vegetable patch.

His figure soon appeared.

Belle gasped as she saw a very tall man hunch under the lower beam of their door, his hair shining in the sunlight as he hunched over, before stepping into the shade. Noting the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking into their kitchen, he hastily closed the door, which D'Arque had left hanging as he stepped wordlessly away in astonishment.

The Duke of Chartres stood in their small cottage in Villeneuve and if there was any moment Belle had felt most certain she was dreaming, this was bloody it.

It was first time she had seen him in a month, yet it might has well have been an age. While she stood there in her dishevelled state, for she had slowly begun to lose any interest in keeping up appearances, he stood there looking even more well put together than the first time she had seen him. He was wearing a travelling coat of some kind, navy blue, modest, but you could tell he was no ordinary person, for it was lined with a hint of gold. He stood by the door, his boots spotless as he quickly took off his dark gloves.

Too tall for their house, he remained hunched over as moved slowly forwards, taking in the surroundings, his blue eyes darting this way and that as he stared at the various crevices of their home. She knew his disposition, knew he never missed a thing and Belle felt her cheeks begin to warm as she too inspected the messy state of their kitchen. Everything was connected of course, the kitchen to her father's workplace, only the bedroom was separated. It was chaotic to some, but Belle found it comforting. She loved the knicks-knacks and rackety nature of their home, her father's paints everywhere, the different coloured walls and brush strokes, mistakes and all.

If anything, Belle felt confident this was a true reflection of her nature.

And to hell with anyone who disapproved of it.

After a moment, Belle took in a deep breath and observed the Duke instead, satisfied with the shock she saw displayed on his face. This was the difference between them. Their kitchen was smaller than even the plongeur's quarters in the castle.

Just as she grew complacent however, his eyes landed on her, and in no time at all, she was suddenly back in that drawing room. Unlike then, however, she saw no deep feeling in his eyes, nothing to suggest what had happened between them. He merely took in her appearance briefly before looking towards D'Arque. For the first time, Belle could not make out anything of the inner workings of his mind.

"Dear Monsieur," she heard him say, and it was odd to hear his voice in their tiny cottage, no way for the deep-set of his timbre to travel anywhere, only to leave its impact that much greater. "I must apologize for my abrupt presence in your home."

D'Arque at this moment, looked almost embarrassed as he raised his hand to say something, but the Prince pushed on, ignoring his frantic gesture.

"Please, I beg you, please let me say my piece. I must also ask for your forgiveness for… For the way your daughter was taken away from you and the toils you have suffered because of my callous ways. I know words are not enough, but I have come here because I wish to make amends. I have sent many letters to you, asking if you would consider making me a patron for Belle. She is very gifted and her talents were wasted in my residence and I believe she would gain a great deal from a proper education-"

"You never mentioned he'd sent letters addressed to me!" exclaimed Maurice, breaking the sombre atmosphere as he turned to stare at Belle in admonishment.

"Papa, I didn't think you needed to know-" started Belle as she looked at her father with guilt, as if this situation could not get any worse.

"Needed to know?!" he bellowed and Belle could not help but gasp, for her father was rarely ever cross. "He is the Duke of our county!"

Belle could not bear to look at anyone, but she knew they were all staring at her. She wished she could dig a hole somewhere right now and bury herself in it.

The Prince meanwhile was staring at Maurice, then looking towards D'Arque before landing on Belle's shocked face which was turned towards the wooden floor.

"Wait a minute," he stuttered as he blinked, unconsciously gripping hold of his leather gloves tightly. "You're, you are her father?"

The Duke looked down at the short bearded old man before looking towards Belle again, who looked as if she were about to burst into tears.

"Yes, Your Highness," said Maurice awkwardly before giving a slight bow. "Please excuse my outburst, but I did not know about any of this until a few moments ago."

The Prince felt his mouth move up and down a few moments as he tried to process what was going on. Turning slightly, he looked outside, where the mob still stood, their voices raising again as he saw his poor footman, Alec, trying to stop them from touching the carriage. They had been there even before he'd arrived, and the Duke knew he ought to have felt some form of apprehension, but his mind had been so fixed on Belle, he had had little time to consider why they were there, aside from the fact that they had somehow figured out he was coming to this village.

But there was no reason to suppose it so.

"Your Highness?" said the old man, who the Prince now understood to be Belle's father, his voice much more subdued now compared to before.

Frowning, he turned slowly back towards the scene in front of him, towards the strange man with the grim expression who stood silently, arms folded behind, strangely calm.

"What is going here?" said the Duke as he stared at all three of them in confusion.

"And, forgive me but, who exactly are you and what are you doing here?" he questioned further before looking towards the sallow looking man again.

D'Arque had been watching silently. He knew it all of course because of Madame Archambeau. He knew this was a conversation that would last a while, and as he looked outside, saw the townspeople gathering around the carriage, noting the chest of arms and gasping in surprise to think the Duke, the Duke, was here in their village, and not only that but at the door of Maurice's cottage. If any rumours had been circulating before about Belle, surely, they were only escalating further with the Duke's mere presence here.

"Your Highness, if you will let me oblige… What I have come to speak to Maurice and Belle about is probably of interest to you as well. We are gaining a lot of attention from outside, and I think it wise if we switch our location. Would it be ok if we travel back to your castle, where we may take our time and converse in peace?"

The Duke narrowed his eyes. He did not trust this man, with his nebulousness and sable eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked again, growing impatient.

"D'Arque, monsieur, a debt collector."

The name ringed a bell, in fact the Prince had not heard it long before, when he had asked Cogsworth why Belle had ended up in their castle in the first place.

"So you were the one who sent Belle to my estate," he said quietly as he remembered looking at the servant register.

"Monsieur Cogsworth and I have been communicating since a while back, yes, because he wanted me to send potential servants from debtor families to you."

"I see," said the Duke curtly, not wishing to think too long on the damning fact, especially with Belle and her father in the room. "Well, whatever business it is you have with this family, I hardly think I should interfere with, I will leave you all in peace and come another-"

"Your Highness, we should make haste," said D'Arque, interrupting the Duke, something of a rather foreign concept to most. Maurice and Belle stared at him.

"Your aunt is no doubt waiting for you," continued the debt collector, his eyes unwavering as the Prince's eyes turned cold, reminding Belle he was still the Duke she remembered.

"My…. Aunt?"

"Yes, the Lady Archambeau."

A moment of tense silence followed which was soon followed by a callous laugh from the Duke.

"Monsieur, I don't know what trick you're playing at but I can assure you my aunt has been dead for several years now."

"I apologize Your Highness, it must have been my mistake. Only I spoke with her this morning and she told me she was making her way towards your estate."

The Prince was about to serve this odd man some several cutting words but then they all heard rapping on the windows and saw some people now trying to look through the glass, having trampled their way the vegetable patch.

"Oh no!" gasped Belle as she stood up and ran towards the other window at the side by her father's worktop and stood on her tip toes to look through. "They've come up the garden!"

"They've trampled on your cabbages."

Belle froze as she heard the Duke's deep voice seep into her skin. She realized he must have been standing just behind her.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely a thin veil as she lowered herself down and turned to look at him. Of all the things that mattered right now she hardly thought cabbages were on the agenda. It was an odd observation, especially coming from someone who she doubt hardly ever thought about the value of food.

"We should get of here," she heard him mutter as he looked down at her briefly before turning away.

"Monsieur D'Arque, I agree with this plan, although I am expecting a full explanation once we reach out premises. You may ride horseback, as I saw your horse on my way here. I will take Belle and- er, her father, if that is alright with him, on my chaise and four. Does that suit?"

Belle turned her gaze back towards outside before looking towards her father, who still stood a little shell shocked by the side of the room.