Chapter 7: The West Wing
It was late, after midnight, when Belle cautiously peeked out from around the door to her room. Stealing out into the hallway, she encountered no one as she moved through the halls of the enchanted castle, gracefully descending the stairs. She noted light and noise…. And pleasant aromas that made her stomach grumble. Pushing back the door, Belle noted the mantle clock that had tried to summon her down to dinner earlier dashing about and trying to stop other enchanted objects from cooking up a feast.
"I forbid it! The Master said…."
Something bumped into Belle's feet just then, and she glanced down just in time to see the candelabra from before hop into the room. "Cogsworth, the girl has…. Oh," he turned and saw her, sweeping low into a bow. "Enchante, mademoiselle!" And the suave candle took Belle's hand and kissed it.
Cogsworth was fit to be tied. "You were supposed to be watching her!"
Lumiere grinned sheepishly. "Something came up."
Cogsworth coughed out a word that sounded like 'Plumette,' causing Lumiere to bristle. The tiny spat was quickly forgotten, however, when Lumiere asked Belle if she was hungry… and, upon her affirmative, proceeded to undermine Cogsworth's authority and have the rest of the household resume its preparation of a feast.
Belle had never eaten to so well before – not even the night after she was married, when Gaston had brought a whole deer carcass home, the venison skinned, for them to share. The thought of her husband made her actually pine even more for home, surprisingly. Had Papa made it home, and notified her husband that she was missing? Did he miss her? Was he sending out a search party at this very moment? She liked to think he would. After all, Gaston had been pretty forward in his feelings, revealing plainly that he loved her… right?
When the meal was concluded, Belle begged off from going to sleep. Lumiere acceded to her wishes by asking if she would like a tour of the castle, roping Cogsworth into it. Belle hoped they might encounter a library, but before they did, they came across something even better: the stairs that Cogsworth inadvertently revealed led to the West Wing.
Hanging back until the clock and candle had rounded a corner, Belle stole up the stairs and ventured deep into the West Wing, her heart pounding.
Behind one set of oaken, double doors, the room was dusty and drafty and dark. At one point, Belle bumped into a table, before entering a wide space that was, to put it frankly, torn to pieces. Furniture overturned tapestries ripped. Belle didn't want to judge, but this seemed just like the home décor of a raging, temperamental Beast.
Turning, Belle gasped when one sundered tapestry caught her eye. There were what looked like claw marks throughout much of the portrait, but enough of it was visible… Curiously, Belle cocked her head and peered closer. She could see enough that it was an image of a man – a handsome man, at that, probably as handsome as her husband, if not more so. She could at least make out that the handsome man had piercing, ice-blue eyes, framed by tumbling locks of auburn hair. The rest of his face was marred by the image's defacing, but, eyes squinting, Belle lifted one flap of the torn painting, trying to get a better look…
A pink glow turned her attention away, and she was drawn to a…. a shining rose, on a side table. The plant was suspended in mid-air, protected underneath a glass dome. Removing the dome, Belle gazed at the flower, enraptured, reaching out a hand to touch it..
A shadow passed over her in that moment, and the Beast suddenly leaped quite close to her, causing Belle to gasp and shrink back. She cringed at being caught trespassing, as the Beast guarded the rose covetously, looming up before her in a threatening manner.
"Why did you come here?"
"I'm… I'm sorry…"
"I told you never to come here!"
"I didn't mean any harm!"
"Do you realize what you could have DONE?!" A paw the size of a badminton racket lashed out, just missing Belle and sending another small table crashing into the wall.
Belle shrank against the tapestries. "Please… stop!"
"Get out!" The Beast made an incomplete lunge, limbs windmilling wildly, and it was enough to cause Belle to run away in terror. "GET OUT!"
Belle didn't stop until she'd reached the entrance hall, passing Cogsworth and Lumiere on the way, who seemed to have been in search of her.
"Where are you going?!" Lumiere yelped.
"Promise or no promise, I can't stay here another minute!"
"No! Please wait!" Cogsworth called hopelessly, but Belle was already diving into the driving snowstorm. It didn't take long to find Philippe sheltered in the stables, and hitching his saddle, the horse and Belle thundered off into the blizzard.
In her fright, Belle's practical logic had abandoned her, so she hadn't given a thought to risking travel in a snowstorm, even if she might have been able to fumble her way out of the woods and back to Villeneuve. Then again, she hadn't been thinking entirely rationally when she had returned Gaston's kiss and accepted his proposal of marriage, either.
And now, once again, her choices left her at risk, for it soon wasn't just a snowstorm threatening her and her beloved horse.
A pack of hungry wolves gave chase, and after galloping through the woods and even fording an icy stream in an attempt to lose the pack, Belle and Philippe were still cornered under a large tree. Philippe reared, accidentally lashing his reins to a branch and throwing Belle off into the drifts. Remembering what her husband had taught her about fighting wolves, Belle grabbed a branch to defend herself and Philippe. But like before in the meadow, it didn't take long for one of the wolf's fangs to snap her weapon in half. She screamed. Another wolf caught her cloak in its jaws and dragged her down low to the ground. As another pounced…
There was an earsplitting roar and the Beast suddenly materialized from nowhere, tossing the wolf away. The entire pack attacked as one, and Belle watched in deep fear (and partial admiration) as the Beast fought them all off. One wolf leaped on his broad back and sunk its teeth into his fur. The Beast howled and flung the wolf off into the trunk of a tree with such force, Belle wondered if the wolf had shattered its own spine.
The wolfpack fled, yelping. Braced up against Philippe, Belle stared in incredulity at the Beast, doubled over and panting. His eyes met hers for a brief instant… and then he collapsed in the snow.
Belle turned back to the saddle. Here was her chance to get away, to go home to meet up with her father, and… and her husband. But chancing a glance back at the Beast who had just saved her life, she knew she could not leave him. And so, with compassion, she flitted over to the creature's side, draped her own cloak over him and somehow managed to lift him just high enough to get him up and over Philippe's back.
Then the group slowly made their way back to the castle.
The Beast was bedridden in his chambers in the West Wing for several days, Belle attending to his wounds. The gash mark in his back needed stitches, and Belle took out a needle and thread to sew him up. She felt like a nursemaid, and yet there was something about the way she hovered over the Beast that made her role seem more… intimate than that. She couldn't explain it, other than noting how tender she was becoming towards this creature. But that only made sense, didn't it? After all, he had saved her life, at great risk to himself – and she hadn't really deserved it.
The Beast was unconscious throughout much of Belle's nursing him back to health, so Belle didn't really have anyone to talk to except the enchanted servants who came by to check on their Master's progress. Lumiere, Plumette (the candelabra's girlfriend), Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts and Chip were the most regular visitors.
"He's looking much better, dearie," Mrs. Potts encouraged.
"He could be on his feet faster…" Lumiere worried, glancing over at the magical rose. Belle followed his gaze, frowning in curious fascination as she perched at the foot of the Beast's sickbed.
"I want to help you. There must be some way to break the curse."
"Curse?" Cogsworth chuckled a little too tightly. "Who said anything about a curse?"
Belle smirked. She was educated, well read enough in stories to know what likely gripped this mysterious kingdom. "I figured it out myself."
"Well, there is one way to break it…" Mrs. Potts muttered.
Belle's heart leapt. "Yes?"
But the teapot shook her head. "It's none of your concern, poppet. We made our bed, and we must lie in it. And who knows?" And she was staring at Belle rather intensely. "Maybe the curse will be broken on its own."
"And if it doesn't? What happens then?"
"Rubbish," Cogsworth stated flatly. "We become rubbish."
Belle watched the group of enchanted objects file out, biting her lip. Behind her, the Beast stirred in his sleep, groaning, and Belle flitted back to him in concern, laying a cool washcloth upon his forehead.
She wished there was something she could do to help break this spell… but outside of Mrs. Potts or any of the others revealing more than they were saying, Belle didn't know how…