Chapter 16- Assistance

Belle was up bright and early the next morning, feeling more exhausted than she did before turning in the night before. Sleep was elusive as nightmares descended upon her once again. Most were the terrifying one where the Beast completely consumes her Prince, and nothing is left but the raging animal who turns on her and tries to rip her apart. Others were of Gaston, and somehow those disturbed her even deeper than those of her lost love. His menacing ice-blue eyes staring down on her as he pinned her against a wall and unleashed his ravenous desires on her, tearing a wedding dress off in the process. Caring for him and a brood of troublesome boys that looked exactly like him, without a single resemblance in looks or temperament to her, as they all used and abused her. Gaston threw every book she tried to hide in their little home into the fire while he laughed at her tears.

This was the life she imagined when the idea of marrying Gaston surfaced. She knew that it would never come to be. That even if she couldn't marry the man she loved, she fully believed she might find happiness being an old spinster schoolmarm. She'd never agree to marry anyone else. It wouldn't be fair to her husband when her heart would never be free. No amount of time or distance could lessen how she felt about her Beast.

For now, she'd give him time to come to his senses. But come next week, she'd no longer make dismissing her that easy for him. She already had her excuse to visit the castle at the ready, and she brushed her hands across the stack of books as she exited her room, dressed and ready for the day in her simple green dress.

Throwing the beautiful green velvet cloak he'd given her over her shoulders and grabbing an apple on the way out the door, she didn't even bother to check to see if Papa was awake. She told him the night before at dinner where she was heading that morning, and while she knew it was still too early to show up at Edmund's, she was looking forward to a brisk ride on her horse.

In the short time Lisette had been hers, they'd grown very close, and often Belle felt like the horse could read her thoughts. This was the case today as Lisette took an unexpected turn down a path into the woods. It wasn't the one to Montiquent, but instead followed the Allier river towards Clermont. It was a trail she'd always wanted to take but never had the time, or the courage to do so alone. With Lisette, she didn't feel alone. She felt safe and was in an abnormally daring mood. Having at least another hour to kill before it was late enough to politely call on Edmund, she allowed Lisette to lead the way.

The path weaved in and out of the forest, never straying far from the river that closely followed the tree line, only darting further into the woods at a few bends. They walked along at a slow pace, both her and the horse taking in the magnificent splendor that surrounded them. The fall colors in the leaves, sprawling wildflower fields when they had occasion to leave the canopy of the forest, and the glistening river that flowed in the opposite direction they headed were all alluring attractions on this small journey they were taking.

Belle's mind began to wander to the other magnificent views she'd been blessed with over the past year. The French coast with its sharp cliffs and pure blue waters, Rome, Venice, the Adriatic Sea, the breathtaking Alps, even the Black Forest had held some stunning views. But her favorite would always be Ireland. The rolling emerald hills and pristine rivers and lakes. And of course, where she finally heard the words she had longed for, for so long. That he loved her.

Lost in the memory of the argument they had that night, and the revelations that it came with, Belle didn't notice when Lisette veered off the path and started heading deep into the woods. She was replaying the moment he confessed his feelings when an arrow whizzed by her head, missing her cheek by centimeters.

Stiffening in the saddle, she finally observed her environment. Belle felt a moment of panic when she recognized nothing around her, and beneath Lisette's hooves was just fallen leaves and brush with no discernable trail in sight. She focused her attention on the direction the arrow came from and saw a rustling in the bushes about two-hundred meters away. For a brief moment she wondered if Tobias was following her again, but logic pushed that aside since to her knowledge he wasn't a skilled archer. Standing frozen in place as indecision wracked her brain, she had to choose whether to venture further into the forest—abandoning all hope of finding the path again—or head towards the threat that nearly sliced through her face, and trust whoever noticed it was a human not an animal they were targeting.

"Belle?" a voice called out from the brush as it rustled with the occupant's movement. "What the hell are you doing all the way out here?"

He stood now in full view, and Belle groaned inwardly. Why did it have to be him? she thought to herself, and contemplated kicking her heels into Lisette, taking off at a gallop. But if he was here, his enormous gray stallion, Axel, wouldn't be far away. And while Lisette was the fastest mount she had ever ridden, Axel could easily overtake her. No, there was nothing to be done but approach Gaston and pray the encounter was brief. That his desire to hunt would remain on small game and not shift to her.

"Bonjour, Gaston." She forced a pleasant smile as she turned Lisette towards where he was standing. "I seemed to have briefly lost the path I was following, but I see it now," she lied, gesturing behind him.

He turned his head and squinted his eyes, searching the ground for the fabled path she was referring to. When he failed to see anything other than leaves and twigs, a smile stretched across his face and he turned his attention back to her.

"You're looking lovely today. That green dress compliments your eyes very well." His voice was light and almost sweet as he complimented her, and Belle wasn't sure what to make of it. In her experience with Gaston, his compliments never came without some backhanded way of bolstering his own ego.

"Merci, Gaston," she replied, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

"I'd be happy to escort you home—assuming you're ready to turn back. If you're not, I can join you as you press forward. Where exactly are you heading?"

"Nowhere in particular, I just haven't followed this path before and was curious."

"Your beastly king not joining you on this spontaneous adventure?" he asked with genuine interest.

"No," was all she offered as a response.

"My good fortune then," he said as he walked over to where Axel was tied to a low-hanging branch. Mounting his horse, Gaston placed his bow around his body, the string following the path of the quiver strap. He smiled at her again, and it sent a chill down her spine as it always did. She was trapped now, with no excuse to vacate his company at the ready.

"I suppose so. But I do have an appointment in an hour, so it's best we head back. Where did you say the path was?" She raised an eyebrow, ready to call his bluff that he had a better idea as to where they were than she did.

"It's about five-hundred paces that way." He pointed in the general direction she had gestured towards before, but the confidence in his words was unmistakable. "I've been hunting in these woods since I was a small boy, Belle. I know every rock, and tree, and path. My hunting lodge is actually just a few hundred meters east of here." There was the arrogant braggart she was used to dealing with.

"What were you hunting today?" she asked, knowing it would earn her a lengthy monologue of his most recent hunting trophies and exploits. Listening to him drone on about himself would give her the perfect opportunity to go back to her daydreaming.

However, he surprised her when he shrugged his shoulders, and slightly lifted his brows as if to say, nothing specific.

They walked casually in the direction he had pointed, and Gaston brought his horse up alongside hers. "So I hear you've taken a liking to teaching at that little school. I'm surprised the new headmaster allows a woman to invade his territory."

Again, he was putting Belle off balance with his uncharacteristic change of topic from himself to her. "Yes, I have. And Edmund is a dear. He was actually the one who invited me to help him at the school. He's not like most educators who believe only boys deserve to be taught. He is a student of Plato, and firmly subscribes to the thought that every person—regardless of gender or rank in life—are entitled to an education." She fully expected to see Gaston's eyes glass over, and his interest instantly wane when she spoke of Edmund or philosophy, but it didn't. His usually cold eyes were actually lit with intrigue and focused on her in a way she'd never seen before.

"Edmund must be an intelligent man to recognize what a treasure you are. Are you and he courting?"

The question took her by surprise. She was certain this was the longest conversation she'd ever shared with him, and most definitely the only one where she was actually the focus. Her unease around him faltered for a moment as she relaxed. "No. He and I are just good friends, best friends actually. He's who I'm meeting at the top of the hour. I promised to assist him with some items he recently received from his father's estate." Why am I telling him all of this? Her brain shouted at her as the information rolled off her tongue before she had the chance to think about who she was talking to. He was up to something, but she couldn't quite figure out what.

"And your king? He doesn't mind you spending so much time with another?"

"No." Another short answer to a question she wanted to ignore. He doesn't care what I do or whom I do it with, she said to herself with bitterness.

After that, things fell silent for a while. It was a peaceful silence, and Belle kept shooting him wary glances, fully expecting him to eventually fill the quiet with his typical yammering about himself. But he never did. Now and then he would catch her eyes shifting to him, and he would hold her gaze in a way that unnerved her but wasn't actually unpleasant. He was certainly putting forth a lot of effort to be cordial and accommodating. Two words she'd never associated with Gaston before.

Belle could see the fork ahead that would take her to Edmund's little house when she finally asked, "So where have you been these past nine months?"

He looked over at her, as if to confirm she actually wished to hear the answer. Her face was calm and serene, and held just a hint of curiosity.

"Germany mostly. The militia our dear Magistrate registered me for disbanded after only two months, and a group of us joined up as mercenaries. Been a lot of trouble along their eastern border and a few skirmishes in the south that we assisted in. Once my pockets were well lined and the fighting died down, I figured it was time to come home to see if there was anything left for me here. I assume I have you to thank for LeFou's excellent running of my tavern? When I left, he could barely tell the difference between letters and numbers, much less understand them."

He gazed at her with admiration, and she sucked in her breath at how the look actually softened his harsh features. This new Gaston was disturbing, and yet comfortably familiar. Although, she couldn't dismiss his behavior the night before at the schoolhouse.

She nodded her head and smiled a little, confirming that she was responsible for LeFou's transformation.

"I had a lot of time to think while I was away. Reevaluate my behavior and the choices I made. I can't say I'm an entirely new man—old habits die hard, I suppose. Particularly when I'm back in my element—but I am trying. I'm sorry about last night."

She didn't know what was happening, or why, but she felt herself actually feeling sorry for him. So much of her time and energy in the past had been spent avoiding him, ignoring him, and thinking ill of him behind his back, and she now felt guilty for some of it. Even the nightmares she'd had about him now seemed foolish and misplaced. He definitely was different. Perhaps being at war again had somehow made him appreciate others more? She wasn't sure. Her logical brain told her she could let her guard down, at least a little, and maybe even occasionally hold a decent conversation with him, like the one they were having now. However, her heart was still as cautious as ever, and didn't trust that he had changed at all. Somehow he was working an angle, and some sinister ulterior motive lay just beneath the surface.

"Thank you, for the apology. I'm sorry if I was unnecessarily harsh." They finally made it to where the two trails separated. She paused for just a moment, searching his eyes for some sign of what he was feeling. "And thank you for the escort. I'm not sure how long it would have taken for me to find my way back had I been left to my own devices." She blushed a little at that confession, and he grinned at her.

"It was absolutely my pleasure, Belle." He made an artfully sweeping bow before turning Axel in the direction of town. "Bonne journée."

"Bonne journée, Gaston."

Belle guided Lisette down the path that led around the village to Edmund's little cottage beyond the schoolhouse. She stopped and craned her neck around when she heard Gaston shout back to her, "If you are ever in need of a guide through the woods again, please don't hesitate to call on me. Thank you for the wonderful morning." He gave her a dazzling smile that if she didn't have such a troublesome history with him it might have had some effect on her.

But this was Gaston!

She waved an acknowledgement before giving him her back once again. Her brow creased in confusion. Had she just spent the last forty-five minutes in Gaston's company and not wanted to chew her own ears off? And was there a small part of her that might have enjoyed it? No. That thought was too horrifying by far. Perhaps a small part didn't loath every moment. Yes. That was it. She hadn't completely hated the entire experience.

Edmund was surprised to see Belle so early, but glad for the company. He'd finished his breakfast and was quietly waiting for her, keeping busy reading a book for the second time. It was one of Voltaire's banned books that railed against religion and the aristocracy, so he typically kept it well hidden for fear of being thrown into the Bastille. Now that Belle was here, he slipped the book under a blanket that sat on one of the two dining chairs and joined her on the stoop outside.

She'd been there a few times before to help him transport things from his house to the school, but never spent any significant amount of time in the tidy house. It was similar to her parent's cottage in size, with one large main room that housed the kitchen and living space, but only one bedroom at the top of the stairs. The cellar that her father used for a workshop, Edmund had turned into his own little library, complete with couch and end table.

Edmund brought Belle down to the cellar where the crates were stored among his growing collection of books. He pried open the first, wasting no time to dive into the task at hand.

"So you have no idea what could possibly be in here?" Belle asked, trying to help pull off the stubborn nails on the lid.

"Not a clue. I thought I had disposed of all his possessions. I'd had no need for any of it, except that couch over there. It's the one thing I kept because it reminds me of my mother. It was hers."

The fallen expression on his face touched Belle's heart. She was all too familiar with the empty feeling not having a mother left in one's soul. That hers had miraculously returned was a blessing she'd never feel worthy of.

With a crack of wood, the lid finally sprang free and crashed to the ground. Edmund removed the shredded packing material to reveal piles of books, pamphlets, letters, and assorted certificates. He stared at it all, dumbfounded and speechless, bringing a hand to cover his mouth which was hanging open.

Belle reached in and took out a pamphlet. She carefully read the cover, and when she got to the author's name, her breath hitched in her throat. "You wrote this?"

Her hazel eyes looked greener today against the pear color of her dress, and they gazed into his with comfort and astonishment.

She picked up a book of poetry, and once again he was the author. The more she dug through the crate, the more it began to sink in. Everything in the box was something he'd had a hand in creating; including certificates of achievement in writing or poetry and even one for editing. "He saved all of this, for you."

Edmund sat on the floor next to the crate, head in his hands, trying to rein in his emotions. He'd spent his entire adult life believing his father despised him and was embarrassed by him because he hadn't become a businessman like himself. But here was proof everything he'd thought to be true wasn't. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

Belle set down the material and came around to his side of the crate, resting back on her knees beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Clearly he was proud of you," she said gently, moving her hand to the center of his back, making small circles across it.

Edmund turned into her, resting his head on her shoulder as she wrapped both arms around him. Tears fell, slowly at first as her words sank in. He was proud of me.

It was a revelation of sorts, to know that the hard, unyielding man who raised him had this hidden soft spot for his only child that no one knew about. If only he'd have shown him, then things between them could have been different.

The last conversation he remembered having with his father was a massive argument that ended with his father threatening to disinherit him if he didn't stop his foolish writing and take over the family business. But stubborn as ever, Edmund dug in his heels and finally told his father what he truly thought of the "family business," the business of working little kids to the bone day in and day out, with little pay and horrendous working conditions. He accused his father of being a vile, despicable man, to mistreat children in such a way.

Edmund Sr. tried to defend himself, listing off all the ways the factory had changed since he took over from his own father. That while yes, children still were employed, the conditions had improved greatly, and everyone was given a fair and competitive wage. But Edmund refused to listen, called him a liar and stormed out.

How many times had he replayed that fight, wishing he'd been more compassionate? Wishing he'd actually listened? But it was too late. His father died a month later from consumption, and Edmund spent the next five years feeling bitter and resentful for the mess left behind. Selling off the factory took two years. Two years where he had to oversee some of its operation. His father hadn't been lying about the improved conditions, and the children no longer looked like slaves. In fact, some of them were genuinely grateful for the work to help support their families.

It wasn't that selling the place had been difficult. That first month he'd had numerous offers, some even went beyond what the place was worth. However, Edmund wouldn't sell it to just anyone. He needed assurances. Assurances written into the bill of sale that the new owner couldn't renege on. Just because he wasn't willing to spend his life looking after the place didn't mean he didn't care about those who worked there. So he stipulated the standard of conditions and minimum wages required. If it ever dipped below, then it would revert back to his property, and the new owner couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Finding someone willing to take that sort of risk was difficult, but after two years of denying every offer presented, he'd finally found someone. It was a young couple starting out a life together. Their names were Bernadette and Rodger Peterson, and they had compassion and intelligence. Edmund still exchanged letters with them and received frequent updates from the shop foreman on the state of things at the factory. By all accounts the place was in even better shape than when he'd sold it, and standards stayed well above the crest of the conditions laid out in the contract.

The freedom he felt when that burden was finally lifted was akin to nothing he'd experienced before. He was finally capable of fulfilling his dream of opening a school that would be welcoming to all. Never in his wildest imaginings did he expect to find a place so close to a fairy tale in the making, or a girl who fulfilled everything he'd ever wanted in a wife. But she was never meant to be his. And even as she held him now while he sobbed in her arms over the hurts of the past, he knew her love for him didn't run as deeply as his for her, and never would.

After the initial shock and outpouring of emotions passed, Edmund straightened. He wiped the moisture from his face on his shirtsleeve and finally started pulling things out of the box. As he did, he told Belle about each item, sharing anecdotes about his college days and the various inspirations that prompted the material in his hand.

Attentive as always, Belle listened to Edmund, and offered silent comfort and reassurance as he revisited the past, never prodding too deeply when it looked as if he didn't wish to elaborate. Finally, they reached the bottom of the first crate and a sealed envelope lay on the wood.

Edmund just stared at it, unwilling to even touch it. He looked at her, his gray eyes red and bloodshot once again as he held back the tears that threatened to spill over once more. She leaned over, reaching into the crate and picked up the letter then broke the seal. She offered it to him, but he pushed it back towards her.

"Could you read it, please? I don't think I can bring myself to try."

"Of course. How about we sit on the couch?" He nodded his head, and the two friends took a seat next to one another. Belle took his hand in hers and held the letter with the other.

My Dearest Edmund,

It has been the greatest sorrow of my life, this estrangement between us, and I shoulder much of the blame. I failed to recognize what a talented and brilliant young man I had raised, for your talent and brilliance is so very different from my own. What I believed to be frivolous and childish larks are truly works of art, and I am so glad I was finally able to see that before my time here was over. My boy, you have a gift. Never squander it or take it for granted. I wish I had noticed sooner and we could have shared in your joys.

I am sorry I was so harsh with you over the years. My father ingrained in me from the nursery that the business was an extension of myself, that without it I was nothing. I tried to impart that same teaching onto you, but never could be as unrelenting as my father had been. Instead, I sent you away for schooling, knowing that it was likely you would find interest elsewhere. Even as a young child you loved stories and poetry. Your mother used to read to you for hours, and you are so much like her. I am grateful for this. A piece of her will always live on in you.

My fondest wish is that you will continue to pursue your writing and one day open that school you were always talking about. Not that you ever needed it, but you have my blessing to dispose of the factory as you see fit, and use the money to fund your creativity. I am so proud of the young man you've become.

Deepest Regards,

Your Father

Edmund never knew how much his father's approval would mean to him if he ever received it until that moment. It was as if he'd been holding part of his breath his entire life and now, for the first time, he could breathe easy. He didn't shed any more tears, but held Belle's hand tightly as she set the letter aside.

"Are you ok?" she asked when she finally saw the look on his face. It was a combination of trepidation and elation. Like he didn't believe what he'd heard, but in hearing it some large weight was lifted from his shoulders. He sat so tall, with his shoulders pulled back, when she'd only ever seen him with his shoulders forward in a slightly slumped posture.

"Yes. I'm okay. I just can't believe it. I spent so much of my life hating him, believing he despised me. And I was wrong, so very wrong."

"It's strange how different our parents can be from the perception we have of them as children." She squeezed his hand before letting it go and walking over to the second crate. "Ready to open the next one?" That precarious brow shot up, and Edmund couldn't help but laugh at her unabashed attempt to distract him before he fell down the hole of self-evaluation that could take weeks to dig out of.

He smiled and joined her by the box. "Sure."

This lid was much easier to remove, and was full of his childhood toys, books, clothes, and even his favorite stuffed rabbit. As they removed each item and Edmund explained its significance, Belle would recount something from her tender years that paralleled his own, and they laughed well into the afternoon about the silly antics they both had as children.

Sometime before supper, Belle finally parted from Edmund, having completed their task of finding a proper place for all that the crates contained. The day had been so distracting, and enjoyable, that Belle hadn't had time for her own inner turmoil. Now that she was alone, and riding Lisette back home, a small twinge of sadness fell upon her. It almost felt wrong to have spent the day having such fun with a friend, ignoring her own troubles for a while and focusing on someone else. The ache in her heart never left her though, and every instinct pulled her towards Montiquent as she made her way home.

How had Beast spent his day? Had he been in the company of friends, or had he thrown himself into work as a distraction from thinking about her? Was he thinking about her at all? He was the one to end things. He was the one who no longer saw a future for them. So maybe he was moving on with ease.

No. She couldn't believe that. To believe that was to think he'd never loved her to begin with. And if there was one thing on this earth she knew to be true, it was that he at least had loved her. Whether he still did was something she could question. From the words that flew out of his mouth that night in front of the library, it seemed as if he didn't. He was so cold and cruel about it. Nothing like the man she knew him to be. The nagging sense something wasn't right dogged at her, but she couldn't return to the castle just yet to figure it out.

Papa hadn't told her much about Maman's absence, but if something was severe enough to require her to stay for nearly a week now, it was cause for humans to stay out. Her concern for the Beast, her mother, her friends, her people, was acute as her mind played out various reasons for the trouble. Most involved wayward magic, or a small revolt of some kind. The latter she dismissed, knowing how much the people adored and respected their King, and how he had made great strides to develop a personal relationship with each and every one of them.

Once again so lost in thought, not paying attention to where she was going, she nearly ran into Gaston as he was coming towards her.

He smiled while nodding his head at her. "Good evening, Belle."

She drew back the reins, pulling Lisette to a stop just as Gaston had done with Axel. "Bonsoir, Gaston. I trust your day was pleasant?"

"Yes, it was. LeFou went over the details of how the tavern has been fairing, and Paulette and I had a lovely picnic by the lake. I would have much preferred to have shared it with you, but I know I have a lot to prove before you would consent to that sort of thing. How was your day with St. James?"

"Very nice, thank you. I'm just on my way home now. We seem to have lost track of time and neglected to stop and eat lunch. I'm famished."

"I'll let you be on your way then. Have a nice night, Belle." He gave Axel a slight kick, and started off again, with a parting wave and a smile.

"Bonne nuit, Gaston."