Chapter 39

As their carriage approached the castle, Maurice tried again to soothe his daughter and convince her they had made the right choice in coming back to the Prince's residence.

"We could not help him if we tried Belle," continued Belle's father as he watched his daughter look out the window with such concern as he had never seen before. "At least we can send for someone this way!"

"There was another carriage as we passed through the forest papa," said Belle forebodingly as she reached out towards the door. "It could have been anyone, further followers of Gaston perhaps, we don't know- We should have turned back!"

"It's not what the Prince wanted!" said Maurice again, but this time louder and with more vigour so Belle took a moment to take in his words. "He wanted you safe, away from it all. There was nothing we could do."

Belle's eyes hardened as she stared at her father, which gave him pause. He had not realized till that moment the depth to which the connection between his daughter and the Prince ran. For the newly ranked Duke to show an interest he could understand, but that stern expression which he had never seen his daughter direct towards him before… That suggested something else on Belle's part and this he feared.

He feared how recognizable it was.

Passing through the tall gates which had strangely been left open, the carriage made a swift beeline down the gravel path toward the grand entrance, where to both Maurice and Belle's surprise, half the staff seemed to be waiting for them.

Before the carriage had come to a stop, Belle opened the latch to the door and stepped out, despite her father's protestations and sprinted toward where the heads of household stood.

"Belle!" exclaimed Mrs Potts, who was the first to come toward her. "We're so happy to know you are safe!"

"Oui, mademoiselle, we were so worried!" said Plumette, who came soon after, her eyes fluttering as she took in Belle's 'rags' and worn out shoes.

"I know I am sorry, I-"

Belle paused just as she began to ramble and noticed Cogsworth standing by himself, Lumiere absent.

"Wait a minute, where is Lumiere and how could you possibly know what happened?" she continued as she took in all the worried expressions she saw on the household's faces.

"Just after the Prince set off to see you mademoiselle, the Duke's aunt arrived, quite unexpectedly," explained Cogsworth, who was opening and closing his pocket watch rather nervously while Maurice stepped out of the carriage behind Belle. "She told us there was quite a lot of commotion going on in Villeneuve and was concerned for her nephew once we told her where he had gone. So not long after, she took a few of the border guards with her and went back."

"That's who it was!" said Belle, feeling at least a little relieved. "We passed a carriage and were worried it might have been Gaston's accomplices!"

"Gaston!" said Mrs Potts sharply and in a way which Belle did not like. "You saw Gaston?"

"Yes, that is who approached us. The Prince… He made us go on without him although I refused at first. He said something about it being a personal matter, but I know what kind of man Gaston is and… I fear for the Prince's safety!"

Mrs Pott's eyes grew sombre as she listened carefully before coming up to Belle and taking the young woman's cold hands into her own.

"I'm sure the only thing on his mind was making sure you were safe my dear," she said, her voice warm and comforting although it did not stop Belle's heart from beating ferociously as if it would never stop.

"Mrs Potts, I know Gaston was once friends with the Prince, but the way he spoke about him sounded like they did not part on the best of terms. The way he made his way towards us, it seemed like he was preparing to do something, I dare not think what-"

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed the old lady as she took Belle into her arms, who, much to her own chagrin, felt like a ton of bricks had fallen atop her back and that she could not withhold her emotions much longer.

"Gaston's family fell from grace," exclaimed Mrs Potts calmly as Plumette soothingly rubbed Belle's back, a sad expression her face, thinking of the Prince too, but also of Lumiere. "The late Duke severed all acquaintance with them. No doubt Gaston hates the young master for it. That and… well, the soldier clearly had his eyes on you."

"How do you know that?" said Belle quickly, her sense sharping immediately as she stepped away and looked squarely at Mrs Potts who wore a similar look of surprise.

She would not however have a moment to reply, for Augustin Mansart had come running down the entrance steps, a confused expression on his face.

"What is going on?" he said as he looked at all the staff, then the empty carriage and the strange old man standing in front of it and then finally Belle.

"Belle!" cried out Augustin as he approached her, but then soon stopped as he noticed her state and tear ridden eyes. "I convinced the Prince to go speak to you himself, but… Why are you here but not Adam?"

"Monsieur I…" Belle began but soon found herself at a loss for words. The truth was just as they had turned down the road and into the forest, she had caught the glint of what looked like the barrel of gun at Gaston's waist. She could not be certain and wanted to believe it had merely been a trick of the light, but the more she thought about it now she knew the Prince had approached a very dangerous man with little to no protection.

"Belle…." said Augustin softly but firmly as he gasped her arms. "Where is he?"

"He ran into Gaston. He told me to leave without him."

For a moment there was only silence, the staff staring at the architect while Belle silently resigned herself to the fact that she had no doubt lost the small respect Augustin once held for her.

Yet what happened next was both abrupt and unexpected, although it shouldn't have been.

Silently, Augustin let go of Belle and walked wordlessly towards the carriage and began to unsaddle one of the horses from it.

"Wait, no, it's dangerous, he is dangerous!" yelled Belle as she chased after him. "You do not realize what he is capable of!"

"I know mademoiselle," replied Augustin, but he did not turn to look back at her. "I don't want either of them to do anything stupid. Adam has always defended me, now I must repay the debt."

No doubt Augustin would have stayed true to his word, but at that precise moment, another carriage had begun its approach toward the castle, coming at a much faster pace than the Prince's chaise, the guardsmen balancing themselves off the carriage itself as the grey horses raced down the gravel path, the sound of their hooves growing louder and louder as they came closer towards the castle.

A window was then opened and an old woman's face suddenly appeared, clearly distraught.

"We need a physician," the staff could hear her shouting. "We need a physician now, someone fetch one from the nearest town!"

Immediately Augustin turned to face Belle and nodded his head, both understanding each other immediately before he set off on the horse he had managed to loosen from the Duke's carriage, passing the lady's carriage and only slowing slightly before taking off again, faster than Belle had ever seen him riding before. Clearly, what he had seen was not good.

The second carriage soon stopped in front of the Prince's and the door was immediately opened, an elegant woman stepped out but Belle felt immediate alarm as she took in the state of the lady's dress, which was covered in blood.

"Do not mind me!" Belle could hear her saying as Mrs Potts approached her. "Take care of my nephew first! We must get him inside now!"

As the palace guards stepped out of the carriage, Belle saw the staff bringing down a divan from through the entrance.

"Put him to rest on the divan, we should not move him so much!" said Plumette, who was now standing by the carriage along with Mrs Potts.

Belle hated the fact she stood motionless by the stairs, unable to move toward the carriage, unable to approach. Part of it was shock, fear, guilt, but also knowing she could do nothing to help, that it was better she let the staff, who knew him best, take care of him.

Belle had never felt like a stranger in the castle, but for the first time, she felt out of place here, like she did not belong, like she did not understand. Knowing she was the cause for it all.

She nearly didn't look, but in the end refused to turn away, knowing later she would never forgive herself for being such a coward to not even see the Prince and the damage she had caused.

As they pulled him out, Belle felt no gasp escape her mouth but a soundless sense of blunt coldness shiver down her body, her heart, which had been busily beating away only moments before, coming to a slow standstill as she stared at the Prince's bloodied shirt, his eyes barely open as his right arm lay limp beside him, where he clearly had been shot.

"It's his right arm," said one of the guards plainly as they slowly put him onto the divan. "I can't tell if the bullet's still in there but we wrapped it to try and stop the bleeding. You need a doctor for this and a military one if possible."

"Let's get him upstairs first," said Mrs Potts firmly, although she looked visibly shaken as she looked at the Prince. "Try not to move him too much or he will go into shock. Keep a firm hold on his shoulder!"

"The blood, there's so much blood," whispered Plumette, shaking her head before turning away to look into the carriage. "But where is Lumiere? Where is he?"

"Plumette, I will need your help," said Mrs Potts sharply, quickly gaining the housemaid's attention. "We must change his shirt and prepare for the doctor's arrival, do what we can till then. Send one of the maids to go down to the kitchen and order the cooks to boil some oak leaves or pear rind with mace in wine."

"Of course," said the dark-haired maid in resignation, before quickly following Mrs Potts as the guards took hold of the divan and lifted the Prince up the stairs, his face as white as a sheet.

Belle looked blankly towards the sight just as her father walked towards her. She paid him no mind however, unable to tear her gaze away from the horrible view of the Prince lying on the divan, seemingly lifeless.

"It's not your fault you know, nobody blames you."

Belle turned in surprise to see the old woman who she now understood to be the Prince's aunt staring her, a kind expression on her elegant face. Immediately Belle turned to bow toward the stately lady, but the gesture was dismissed swiftly, as if it were unnecessary.

"You must be strong, my dear," she continued, patting her on the shoulder and turning Belle towards the castle and directing her up the stairs.

"I should have tried to reason with Gaston Madame," Belle found herself saying as they walked up the steps behind the staff. "It is my fault His Highness was put in danger. It was failure on my part to not protect him, it was my duty as a citizen of his county, I could have stopped it."

"Judging by his character, your defending of the Prince would only have angered Gaston further my dear child," replied the Duke's aunt, her eyes vivid and piercing, but strangely familiar.

"But what about Gaston?" exclaimed Belle, suddenly remembering that the soldier was strangely absent, along with Lumiere.

"Do not worry about that mademoiselle," said Lady Archambeau curtly, even as Belle turned to look back at the empty carriage. "He is being taken care of by Lumiere and Monsieur D'Arque who arrived at the scene shortly after me. I know of my nephew's dealings with him and what a volatile character he is. Rest assured, he shan't be bothering anyone for a long time."

"The Duke had failed to mention of your existence before," replied Belle carefully as she turned to look at the old woman's face again. "He seemed to think you were dead."

"A very interesting story but for another time," said the old lady, a wry smile on her lips before they entered through the main doors, quickly following behind the staff as they made their way up to the West Wing.

"So?" said Augustin hesitantly as he paced the room while the physician silently went about his work and inspected the Duke who lay disturbingly still on the bed, hidden from view.

"A moment please monsieur," was all the reply that was given, to which the architect reacted to by letting out a sigh of frustration and turning to look at the heads of household, Mrs Potts with her wet sleeves, along with Plumette who had sweat around her hairline. They had done well, as much as they could do while they had waited, trying to the stop the bleeding.

But it did not stop Augustin from worrying because the truth of the matter was, his best friend did not look good and hadn't uttered a word since they had brought him in.

"Lady Archambeau?" uttered the physician finally as he removed his glasses, standing up from his previous crouching position and turned to look at the only blood relative in the room.

"Yes?" replied the old lady nervously, standing up from her chair and approaching the bed quickly. "How is it?"

"I believe Madame," began the physician, his voice slow and monotone, "that your nephew is lucky to be alive. The shot passed through his right shoulder but at such an angle that what you have here could be seen as more of a flesh wound than anything else. No extraction will be necessary, and that is a good thing. His shoulder and back will need to tending to however."

"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed the Duke's aunt, lifting her hands to her mouth in a praying motion as the heads of household let out of a collective sigh of relief. Only Augustine kept his gaze on the physician however, as he saw his expression remained serious.

"I must caution you however that this is still a very serious injury," he continued, making sombre eye contact with the architect. "It will need to be cleaned, stitched and a poultice applied on, but none of this can necessarily prevent gangrene from occurring and of course it is highly likely His Highness will develop a fever as a result of all this."

"Is there really no way to prevent that?" asked the Lady Archambeau, her voice showing the first signs of fragility. "Are you suggesting my nephew's life is still in danger?"

"Nothing is for certain I am afraid," replied the physician, his voice for the first time revealing signs of sympathy. "In the past during my army days, we would purposefully burn the wound to prevent infection, but since the bullet luckily passed through, I am hoping this will not be necessary. He will need constant supervision, not just on my part but on the staff as well. It will be a trying few days, you must be prepared."

"Will leeches be needed? What can I provide for you sir?" asked Mrs Potts cautiously.

"You have done all the correct things, I am very impressed," said the doctor, whose name was Pinel. "The mace is exactly what is needed to help with the strain on the body, and the wound has had a good pressure on it, I believe the bleeding will stop soon. Usually I might need leeches but unlike some of my contemporaries, I do not believe it would help when the patient has lost a considerable amount of a blood. A good chicken broth would go a long way in helping his recovery."

"Of course, I will go down to the kitchens at once and ask them to make some!" expressed Mrs Potts before turning immediately and heading out the door.

"Well, I must say I do not feel shame in saying I feel relieved," said Augustine as he came towards the Duke's bed, the physician moving aside. "I was expecting the worst and I do not know if I could have handled that. At least he had a good fighting chance. It does look ghastly though."

"It will be better once I get on with dressing the wound sir," said the doctor curtly, who turned to fetch bandages from his leather bag which was propped by the side table.

"Of course," said Augustine hastily, moving away even as he looked on at the Prince. "I will leave you to your work, please let us know if you need any help."

"You have a very good household here," said Pinel, giving a genuine smile as he crouched by the side of the bed again. "The Duke is very lucky to have so many people who care about him."

Augustine turned to look hesitantly at Lady Archambeau, who was staring at him with a serene look in her eyes. The two were vaguely acquainted, mostly through brief encounters during the architect's childhood, back when the Duchess was still alive. Like everyone else however, he had presumed her to be dead.

"He is indeed fortunate," was all the mysterious woman said however before quitting the room, leaving Augustine to ponder over the strange and bizarre turn of events that had managed to occur in less than a day.

….

Belle sat by the windowsill along the portrait gallery just outside the West Wing, trying to collect her thoughts. The sun was coming down, the day was nearing twilight and the castle was eerily still. Mrs Potts and Plumette had passed through a few moments ago but were clearly preoccupied, so only gave a quick curtsy as they passed. Belle had asked if they needed help but they had merely advised her to rest, saying the Prince was no longer in a critical state and that there were high hopes of a recovery. Lumiere and D'Arque had not yet returned, along with half the guards. Whether they were safe or not was still a mystery, and even if they were, it was still uncertain where they had taken Gaston and was to be done about him.

But more than any of this, what Belle felt was immense guilt. Perhaps it was egotistical of her, but she believed that most if not all the miseries the Prince had been subjected to since she had come to the castle where because of her. She grew increasingly more suspicious of the fire, the rumours that had circulated about the young Duke and now this. In trying to protect her father Belle believed she had in turn brought misfortune upon all that lived in the castle.

"It seems you did not heed my words."

Belle sat up straight before turning rigidly to the side. Lady Archambeau was walking at a leisurely pace toward her, the indigo beams of fading light streaming through the windows giving her an ethereal-like quality.

"I do not know how I can possibly make up for the damage I have caused," said Belle, standing up and curtsying very low toward the lady. "I do not deserve to be here. I should leave."

"Uh, and exactly how would that help anyone?" quipped Archambeau before giving the young girl a look of exasperation. "My dear, you really are as helpless as they come, aren't you? Did I take in my words?"

"I understand and am grateful for them Madame, but it does not change the fact the Duke's life is now in danger."

"And he would not want it any other way," said the old lady as she came to stand in front of Belle, a wry smile playing at her lips once again. "I told you once that love does not make you weak. Do you truly believe my nephew thinks he is weak because of what he did?"

"No, of course not," retorted Belle without thinking, leading the Lady Archambeau to smile even more widely, though she did not notice it. "He is a very arrogant, instinctual and often does things without thinking of the consequences and-"

Belle stopped.

'Love does not make you weak.'

She had heard similar words before, but they had not been uttered by Duke's aunt.

Looking up, Belle looked into the eyes of the old woman and perhaps it was because of the dying light, not being distracted by her attire but she saw it in that moment.

"But you're- you're the-"

"Yes, the 'old beggar woman'," said Lady Archambeau, smiling again as Belle took a step back, her eyes widening, her mouth open. "I am sorry for the charade my dear, but I needed a good disguise to see what was truly going on my nephew and his Dukedom."

"But you were here from the beginning," said Belle quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "You were here the night of the ball, you saw me in the ballroom, you spoke to your own nephew, let him force you out of the castle-"

"Yes, I did," said Lady Archambeau, nodding her head as she took off her gloves and sat down where Belle had been by the windowsill. "Much to the chagrin of my lady in waiting, I must add. However, it needed to be done, and I am glad of it. I am also glad that I was here to witness some very crucial moments in my nephew's development. Heaven knows, if I had come here before when my brother in law was still alive, well, I might have never changed my mind."

"Changed your mind on what?"

Archambeau looked as if she wanted to say more but then had thought better of it, choosing instead to direct Belle to sit beside her.

"That can wait till later my dear," she said, giving Belle a knowing glance before gazing up toward the portraits hanging on the wall. "My sister always hated this gallery. Never cared for it. Was convinced it was haunted by ghosts, haha!"

Belle blinked and realized that the Lady Archambeau was not the greatest actress, for her true character seemed not that dissimilar to the old beggar woman she had portrayed, still retaining a certain sense of eccentricity which Belle had actually felt quite drawn to.

"But now," said the old lady, turning to face Belle once more. "What are we to do with you."

"What are we to do with me?" stammered Belle, repeating the lady's odd words, just as Augustine appeared through the doors of the West Wing, stating the physicians work was done and that the Duke had regained consciousness, calling for Belle.