Chapter 8: Get My Wife Back

Gaston had thought Maurice's ramblings were delusional and nothing more than some kind of joke… that is, until he walked back into the cottage he had started living in with his young wife, only to find it empty and deserted. That is when alarm bells began to go off, that maybe Maurice really hadn't been making any of this garbage up.

Even if, on the face of it, Maurice's explanation for why Belle would be in the woods and not at home waiting up for her husband was ridiculous, it didn't explain why Belle would take off without explanation. Had she run away? No, impossible! She had wed and landed the most eligible bachelor in all of Villeneuve; she would be nothing but happy and fortunate to be his wife and provided for better than any other woman in the Village! Why would Belle want to leave? In the back of his mind, Gaston recalled how Maurice had been absent from his daughter's wedding because he had taken some doo-dad off to an exhibition fair pulled by his doddering old horse (in his esteemed opinion as a hunter, Philippe had been beyond broken in and should have been put out to pasture, or better yet, turned into glue, long ago). If he had been more of a detective, Gaston might have searched farther afield – into the meadow perhaps where he and Belle had gone hunting and where they had nearly had their first kiss. And where, if Gaston had gone there into the meadow, he might have found Maurice's invention still sitting in the wagon … a wagon that was not hitched up to any horse. He might have reasoned: no Philippe, but the cart is here, so did Belle perhaps take Philippe and ride off into the woods?

But Gaston didn't do any of that sleuthing. All he knew was that his wife was missing. His father-in-law was missing – though he figured that Maurice might find his way back to Villeneuve eventually (he had allegedly done it once before), and perhaps this time, it would be with Belle in tow. The entire family Gaston had married into had up and vanished, with close to no explanation. A cursory casing of the cottage didn't turn up any kind of note from Belle. Her silly books were still on the sitting room table.

Thinking back to the last time he had seen his wife, during that argument over children, injected a bit of anger into Gaston's worry. His wife refused to bear his children – all the sons he wanted to teach how to shoot and skin! And now she was gone? Insecure fear gnawed at his gut. Could she really have left him, still so soon after their wedding? Had she forsaken her marriage over nothing more than a little spat? Gaston had figured upon his coming home from the tavern, Belle would have come around to his way of thinking – that a wife's place is in the home, the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant. But now…

The power dynamic in his marriage had shifted – disappeared along with his bride and her father. And Gaston was determined to get it back.

And there might be a way…. but he first needed at least Maurice back here in the village to gain that kind of leverage.

In the meantime, Gaston rounded up Lefou and went back to the village tavern for help, where, afterhours, he arranged a secret meeting.

Monsieur D'Arque, the Director of Villeneuve's insane asylum (it was isolated on the outskirts of the little municipality) was very intrigued by the dilemma Gaston came to him with.

"It's like this, see: I've got my heart set on my wife, Belle, having our children. But she needs a little… persuasion."

"Turned him down flat!" Lefou piped up, chuckling a little. Gaston nearly lost his temper and hit him. Sometimes, he wasn't sure why he kept Lefou around for really, well, anything. His trusty sidekick hadn't exactly been totally devoted and supportive tonight, ever since leaving Maurice to his fate in the forest. The hunter decided to let it go, but barely – his ego was still wounded, and he didn't need Lefou reminding him, or worse, seemingly revel in it.

"Everyone knows her father's a lunatic! He was in here tonight raving about a Beast in a castle!"

"Maurice is harmless," D'Arque droned drolly, shrugging.

Well, that professional diagnosis wasn't exactly helpful – not for the goal Gaston wanted to reach. He surreptitiously laid another bag of gold down upon the table. D'Arque's expression didn't change – except in his eyes. He even ran a gold piece between his fingers, contemplative.

"So you want me to declare her father legally insane and place him in the asylum until she agrees to bear your child?" A pause and then: "Oh, that is despicable…. I love it!"

The lighter grey of dawn was still a whole hour away when Gaston, Lefou and D'Arque circled back to Belle and…. Gaston's cottage. Just to check, the hunter had said. Either his wife or his father-in-law may have returned in the interim.

Throwing open the door, Gaston was quick to realize: someone had been here, recently, but had left in a hurry. Papers were displaced amidst Belle's books on the tea-table that hadn't been so messy an hour or two ago. The hat rack was empty. And before, there had also been on the hook a fogman's coat! But where was its owner?

Gaston stewed, teeth gnashing. The old man… he must have circled back and gathered supplies, then gone back out to continue the search. And if he had… that meant Maurice at least knew how to get out of the woods (from a certain distance anyway) and back here.

And that if he was still searching for Belle, something had to be very, very wrong.

"BELLE? MAURICE?!"

"Aw, well," Lefou shrugged. "Nobody's home…"

Gaston grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and marched down the back stone steps. "They have to come back sometime…. And when they do… we'll be ready for them. Lefou:" And he dropped his sidekick into a snowdrift just off the back steps. "Don't move from that spot, until my wife and her father come home!" Gaston clambered onto the carriage step and let D'Arque's cart wheel them away.

"But… I…. Aw, nuts!" Lefou punched a small tree trunk… and got buried in more snow for his trouble.