Chapter 42

Belle let the parchment drop to her lap, her eyes still tracing the late Duke's last words.

They sat in silence, but it was not an awkward silence, more like a sense of conclusion had finally been reached and an odd sense of calm had fallen upon them.

"He still beat you as a child. I cannot forgive that," said Belle quietly as she folded the letter and placed it on the space of the divan between herself and the Duke. "You deserved better."

"I do not yet know what to make of it myself," replied the Prince, his tone hard to make out. "The words are alien to me but given what I have learnt from the staff and Marie, I think they are in earnest. I cannot…. forgive him, but I cannot deny that I do not recognize the thoughts he describes within myself."

Belle was surprised by how collected the Duke sounded and as she lifted her gaze, she saw that he was looking directly at her and without the haunted expression which always used to glaze over his eyes whenever the issue of his father was brought up.

"I cannot make sense of it yet," he continued, "however I do believe he loved me, in his own way."

The Duke blinked, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth it seemed. Belle promptly reached over and took hold of his hands, a sad sort of smile appearing.

"We have a lot to thank Lady Archambeau for," she replied softly.

"A lady I have only properly addressed for the first time this morning," said Duke, a sardonic expression appearing on his face, relieving some of the heaviness of their conversation. "You do not know how odd it is to have someone of your own blood that you previously thought dead to suddenly re-appear in your life. Even stranger as she resembles my mother a great deal. It makes me wonder what she would look like now, had she not died."

"She would be very proud of you," said Belle, meaning every word. "And your father was right about you."

"My father's words would never have reached me if it weren't for you," replied the Duke, shaking his head as he refused to take the compliments thrown his way. "As I was before, I doubt I would have read even a single line. I'd have tossed it into the flames and degenerated further still. My aunt would never have approached me."

"I don't know," said Belle brightly, as she tried to pull him out from the under the dark cloud he had created. "I think she would have helped you. I mean, she came this far, coming back to France for you. I believe you would have set things right Adam eventually, just like your father did."

The Prince turned to stare at her incredulously, as if she had turned mad.

"You address me by my name and now you proceed to describe someone I do not know," he said flatly but his eyes were glittering slightly, reminding her of the Prince at the ball.

"It's true!" exclaimed Belle, even as the Duke laughed, a sight she wished she could prolong forever. "Like he said, you care a great deal more than you care to admit. This county will thrive under your rule sir."

The Prince's smile slowly dropped as he heard the formality in her voice, something she hadn't intended but had come out of habit.

"You know you shouldn't address me as such anymore," he replied slowly, his eyes growing warm and yet distant as Belle looked at him, perplexed. "You belong to the Géroux line now and are to be a Countess."

"A Duke is still above a Countess sir," replied Belle uneasily. "Besides, I do not know yet if I shall even take the title."

"I understand, this must all be very scary and intimidating for you, especially with such a bad example of it sitting before you," said the Duke, his voice kind and understanding. "However, there will always be people who will support and protect you. I will always be your ally."

"Just an ally?" whispered Belle before lifting her gaze to look at the Prince, who stared at her wide-eyed.

"Belle I-"

At that moment the door proceeded to open and Lumiere quickly appeared in the room, Maurice and D'Arque nowhere to be seen in the landing outside.

"Your Highness," he said, giving a swift bow before raising his head. "I apologize for the intrusion, but your aunt is requesting your presence."

"Lumiere-"

"She wishes to see the mademoiselle as well," continued Lumiere, a worried sort of look appearing on his face. "She specifically requested to see both of you, immediately."

….

The lady was waiting for them, standing quite elegantly in the middle of the grand staircase hall, looking up towards the steps.

"Rather foreboding isn't it," she said plainly as the Prince and Belle slowly approached, Lumiere leading the way in front of them. "It's this horrid architecture, that's all. I don't understand why the steps were designed to be so steep."

"Aunt," spoke the Duke, his voice just as assured as hers so that a small smile appeared on her face even as she turned to face them. "I apologize for the delay and all the confusion that has taken place since your arrival. This is absolutely not the way I would have liked to have greeted my long-lost aunt after all this time."

"Indeed, I suppose not," said Lady Archambeau, but she did not seem that fussed as she shrugged her shoulders rather casually, a fine-laced violet fan held between her long fingers. "That is neither here nor there however."

As the Prince's expression turned confused, Belle took the opportunity to look more closely at the lady. There had always been something rather intimidating about her, even as a beggar woman, but whatever traits had been there previously, it seemed like they had been further exenterated by the revelation of her true appearance, with a long, demure and yet daring violet dress which was cut simply but yet suggested an inner intelligence due to its deceptively simple design.

"There is quite a lot I am sure you wish to know, but chief among them I believe is why I have decided to reveal myself now, and why you had not heard from either your uncle or me for all this time."

"That's something like it," said the Prince rather begrudgingly as Lumiere left them and went to tend to the fireplace as the servants set up the area so that they could take tea.

"The matter is not at all simple and in order to tell it in full I would need a lot of tea and perhaps even some brandy, hence I took the liberty of ordering your servants to bring something out," said Lady Archambeau before gesturing her fan toward Lumiere, who turned to give a swift and slightly nervous bow before leaving the premises along with two other maids.

"It was, initially, because of what happened when I announced my engagement to my husband," said Lady Archambeau as she turned away from Belle and Adam, who still stood next to each other, their collectively confused expressions still trailing behind the figure of the old lady as she moved towards the table by the fireplace.

"Not a noble by any stretch and highly unsuitable in your father's eyes," she continued as she glanced backwards towards them in a teasing manner before sitting herself down on an armchair, placing her cane beside it. "My sister and I were part of the Courtois family back then, but our parents had passed away. I was a bit younger than your mother, so until I married, I came under the responsibility of your father, much to his annoyance of course."

As the Prince approached the table, he took hold of Belle's elbow, gently guiding her towards the divan opposite, and although she protested silently, he only gave a reassuring shake of his head and a swift smile before standing up and walking toward the mantlepiece.

"My father never talked about you," replied Adam before he glanced towards his aunt, his eyes guarded. "Not once."

"Well, I was an embarrassment in his eyes," said Lady Archambeau, her eyebrows arched as she stared at him. "I must say, standing there like that with your arm on the mantlepiece, you are the spitting image of him."

"This still doesn't explain why everybody in France believes you to be dead," replied Prince quickly, moving uneasily away from the fire to stand closer to the grey-haired woman so his face was no longer hidden by the licking flames.

"Your father forbid the match," said Archambeau as she poured herself a cup of tea, poo-pooing Belle as she tried to get up to help, "while your mother did not. I was adamant and my husband, being the responsible man that he was, refused to elope with me. So, we had- what shall we call it? An impasse."

"And then?" asked Adam, growing a bit frustrated with his mysterious aunt as Belle sat back down, looking thoroughly uncomfortable as if she felt she ought not to be sitting in the middle of a deeply personal conversation.

"My husband may have been a commoner, but he was not poor," continued Archambeau, still looking upon the Duke as if she were watching someone else. "He was part of what I'm afraid those at Versailles refuse to admit is the future. Not rich, not poor, not in service to anyone… I understand it is a concept you are unfamiliar with, but I believe in time more like my husband will appear, it is only a matter of time. My sister knew this, but your father did not wish to accept this. Eventually my own discomfort over the situation turned my sister unhappy and caused a genuine rift between herself and her husband. Despite how it appears on the outside, a cool and calculating relationship, actually your father cared for your mother much deeper than I had anticipated. So it was that they came to an agreement with some compromise for both parties."

Lady Archambeau placed her teacup back on to the table, the quiet chink of the china highlighting the general tension that surrounded the odd atmosphere before she sat back into her seat, the back of the armchair a deep navy blue which made it seem as if she were sitting under a starless night sky, given her less than average height.

"I would be able to marry, however, we were to never come back to France. A story would be fabricated, how we died at sea during our voyage, and we would change our names. All this to protect the reputation of the Dukedom. Or at least that is what your father believed."

"What do you mean?" questioned Adam as his aunt stood up walked towards Belle, who so far had been siting silently, watching the two them without interfering.

"Your mother and I realized something when your father came up with this plan," replied Lady Archambeau, even as she continued to stare at Belle, who was at a loss as to whom she should look at. "Your father was a little loose with money and tended to get lost in his emotions."

"He was a very emotive man in fact," continued the old lady, her ruby drop earrings flickering in the firelight as she turned to look at Adam. "I doubt he realized it himself, it is not fashionable for those in the very upper tiers of society, particularly for a man but there it is. Something tells me you also inherited his general aura of hidden passion conveniently obscured by doom and gloom."

Her voice was rather sardonic as she smiled towards him, but it was not a cruel smile, not even that of pity. It was simply as if she were looking at something familiar, like an old, forgotten set of gold-lined china covered in dust.

"Your mother loved him very much, but she did not entirely trust him," she continued as she flapped her fan, sitting herself back down onto her armchair and placed her cheek against the palm of her thin hand. "She was clever, and always, always looked at the bigger picture."

"When I told her we couldn't have children, that we were certain it would never happen, she asked if I would ever return to France. I didn't immediately understand why she was asking; my mind was made up, I would miss her terribly but if that is what it took, me and my would-be husband were prepared. Besides, we did not care for society anyway, it wasn't something that suited me. And when I thought of travelling the world with him, it sounded like a great adventure. And it was... An adventure, I mean."

"Your husband is dead," stated the Duke slowly and carefully, his voice subdued. "I am sorry to hear that."

"It was some years ago now," replied Lady Archambeau, and it was clear from her expression that time had helped heal some wounds. "I came back because I was informed your father had died. But of course, I'm jumping ahead, we must go back to when I last spoke to my sister before I departed France."

"I don't why she thought this, and I am not sure this is something you would want to know dear nephew, but your mother always believed she would die before your father," stated Archambeau, her eyes growing distant as she no longer looked at anyone in particular. "It still remains a mystery to me, but she told me that in the event of her death, she knew her husband would have a very difficult time. He loved her deeply, in a way that was all consuming, almost unhealthy and she knew the Dukedom might reach a point of becoming unstable. You were not yet born, and they had been trying but failing for some years. She had already had a few miscarriages, but she was adamant to have a child. In any case, she was worried about your security. And that is when she proposed this."

The old lady then proceeded to pull something out of a hidden pocket in her dress, a single thin envelope with the crest of the Dukedom on top of it, with a very delicate handwritten scrawl which seemed to spell out only two names: Adam/Anna.

"What is that?" uttered the Duke, stepped towards the lady as she placed on her lap, her hand still holding it lightly but unmoving.

"It was never to be given to the Duke and was handed to me just before I left," replied Lady Archambeau, who was also looking down towards the piece of parchment. "A secret exchange between two sisters, a secret agreement."

No one spoke, not even the Duke, for it now seemed as though they were getting to the crux of the matter.

"I did give it back to Mrs Potts when I first arrived in Villeneuve, spying upon this county to see how you were faring, but I just retrieved it back from her just this morning. Those two buffoons you were interrogating just now really have missed a trick I must say, reading the wrong parent's letter."

An odd smirk appeared on her face as Lady Archambeau turning to stare at Adam, who stood gobsmacked.

"Never mind, that is all in the past," she continued, her voice flippant, "the point is I agreed, along with your uncle, that upon your father's death we would aid you, and whatever we had, would be passed on to you. Though a simple merchant at first, my husband did rather well as we travelled through the Mediterranean from place to place. So, it is something in the range of - francs."

"What?" stammered the Prince, his eyes wide as saucers as Belle could do nothing but simply watch, open-mouthed.

"Of course, this was all under the proviso that we took a thorough look at you to make sure you were deserving of this. Your mother was adamant that if you had grown up to be selfish, spoilt, consumed by money with no morals, we were not to give you a single penny."

"That's the reason for all the dress-up," breathed Belle, unaware she had spoken out loud and thoroughly embarrassed as Lady Archambeau turned to smile at her warmly.

"Indeed, my dear, exactly," she replied, shaking her head enthusiastically. "And I'm afraid I did take advantage of you as you were a rather perspective child working in the castle. You gave a very detailed picture of who my nephew was in those days last winter."

"What are you talking about?" asked the Prince, turning to look at Belle, as a wave of confusion washed over him.

"Oh yes, that was rather clumsy of me," said Archambeau, shaking her head and closing her eyes as if she were becoming cross with herself. "Of course, you know nothing about any of this. I, dear boy, was that poor peasant woman you threw out, that day during your ridiculous ball. Really, hosting what amounted to a bachelor's romp on the day of one's father's funeral. I nearly thought to pack up and leave right there and then!"

"True beauty is found within…"

"I'm sorry?"

"That's what you said to me, that night," said the Prince quietly before he turned towards his aunt. "That was a test?"

"Of sorts, yes, I suppose you could call it that," stated Lady Archambeau, as she watched something akin to shame, bitterness and remorse come over her nephew's handsome face. "You failed miserably."

"I don't understand, why did you bother to stay," replied the Duke, his voice low as he looked towards the fire, his golden hair turned a rich amber against it. "I am exactly as my own mother predicted I would turn out to be, raised by my father."

"Do you think that's true my dear?"

Archambeau's bright and clear voice pierced through the Prince's dark aura like lightning, so blinding in fact that he himself blinked a few times as he heard her quite clearly disregard his sombre words with a certain amount of strange frivolity.

"What?" stammered Belle as the Duke's aunt continued to stare at her expectantly. "I- I do not know what to say-"

"Well, that is very odd," replied Archambeau, acting as if she were affronted by Belle's mild response. "You have never delayed before in telling me exactly what you thought of my nephew before, why should it be any different now?"

As Belle fought to find what she ought to say, the lady merely smiled in response, kindness returning to her eyes as she turned to look at her nephew who was staring at Belle with some unknowable emotion behind his blue eyes.

"It was because of her, if you must know," continued the Duke's aunt, as if she were speaking only to be kind. "She knew much more about you that I think anybody realized. She saw potential in you, a potential which I am glad to say, I recognize too."

The Prince's intense gaze turned reluctantly away from Belle to face his aunt, who was smiling at him openly.

"I kept up my correspondence with my sister through Mrs Potts, and she kept me informed," said Archambeau, her eyes bright. "My sister was right, just as usual, and my husband made sure upon his death that I would have the option to do with our wealth as I pleased. I had planned to give it all away to a charity in the event that I found you to be disreputable. But I am glad to see this is not the case. You have changed a great deal in this past year, my dear nephew. I am sorry to have had to carry on this deception for so long. You need not worry, the mademoiselle had absolutely no idea as to my true identity till a few days ago when that stupid blaggard decided to shoot you."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can keep up with all this," rambled the Prince as he stepped forward and pouring himself a glass of brandy, even though it was only midday while his aunt continued to smile at him.

"No need my dear, we are coming to the end of it," replied Lady Archambeau as she picked up her walking stick and stood up, moving toward the mantlepiece before turned to stare at the two young people in front of her.

"My sister would be proud of you," she said plainly, her voice no longer coated in eccentric humour. "Of that I am sure. There is only one other issue that remains before I am able to pass this to you Adam."

The Duke's aunt held up the letter in her hand, it's silhouette stark against the flickering fire behind it.

"That is the issue that remains between yourselves. I cannot approve this match, and it is only if you promise to not be attached, that I can support you Adam as the next Duke of Chartres."