CHAPTER 9
THE two hadn't traveled far before it became apparent to Gaston that Belle's health was in jeopardy the longer they lingered out here in the cold. Her dark brown eyes were distant, and every sharp breath inhaled seemed to be a struggle.
Gaston was quick to decide he did not like the rattling cough that erupted forth from Belle's lungs. He feared he was feeling her slowly slipping away from him. His guilt consumed him at the very thought.
What had happened to her was in no way Belle's fault, but his.
I'll kill him, Gaston thought angrily through gritted teeth as visions of Prince Adam flitted through his mind. He drew in a dense and aggrieved breath that pained his lungs. Seven hells, if it's the last thing I do, I'll kill him….
He should never have put her on a horse, traveling rough, cold ground through the Wolves' Woods, where wolves lurked in the shadows around almost every corner, in the cold, and now, through the light gentle snowfall.
He would have to risk LeFou's mother and father asking questions of why their only son's oldest friend was out here alone in their neck of the woods with a young mademoiselle who was so gravely injured and sick. Gaston's only hope was that Mary and Aiken would offer Belle shelter and allow her to rest for more than a few hours until her health returned, and he could then take her back to the village.
Hopefully by that point, when the Prince and the King's men did not discover the two of them back in Villeneuve, Adam would lose interest. The miles to LeFou's family's cottage seemed to stretch on, empty and endless, as Gaston searched desperately for the familiar plume and haze of smoke that was sure to billow from their chimney, a sure sign that Mary and Aiken were home.
All the while, Gaston felt Belle weakening and slipping by the second while in his arms. Her body leaned against his sturdy chest, and it seemed like she would go limp at times.
When he'd almost given up hope, there came the familiar grey haze of the smoke billowing in the distance. Gaston felt the edges of his lips curl upward in a soft, triumphant smile.
He could have shouted for joy, a victorious cry of triumph, but then he would have given away their position to any wolves that might be in the forest, or any of the prince's men, besides.
Urgently, he steered his horse in the direction of the smoke. He prayed that the house was going to provide the warmth and refuge he wanted Belle to have while he tended to her cheek, assuming they had medical supplies.
Cautiously, he walked the horse to the edge of the gate near the entrance to Mary and Aiken's small home.
Gaston was careful to approach calmly, not wanting to appear to them a threat as he was cloaked and there was a chance the older couple might not recognize him at first.
Gaston dismounted, slowly drawing his sword, and resting it across the saddle. Gaston made a point to check Belle before leaving her side. The hunter abhorred needing to part from Maurice's daughter even for a few seconds.
"Will you be alright while I bid your appeal to the master of the house?" Gaston asked nervously as Belle watched him weakly.
Her dark eyes glazed over. She nodded. She was fighting with all her strength to try to stay cognizant and alert.
Though she perked up upon hearing a distant, guttural roar in the distance of some creature. She shivered. Gaston froze, straining to listen for more sounds.
It sounded like no wolf he had ever heard. Watchful for any signs of danger, Gaston made his way to the door and knocked loudly upon the old oak panel to announce his presence to LeFou's parents.
He waited patiently, and hoped his parents within the small cottage, more of a hut, really, would be amenable to his request.
He looked back over his shoulder at Belle, who was slumped in the saddle, already looking fatigued and on the brink. Gaston shot a prayer to Heaven above, praying she would need to go no further this night.
She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. Finally, the door opened just a slight crack and the drawn and wrinkled face of the elderly miller appeared on the other side. He blinked owlishly at Gaston in surprise, his lips parted slightly agape.
"Monsieur Dupont?" LeFou's father questioned suspiciously. "What in God's name can I do for you, sir? It's the middle of the night, have you no sense of time, sir?"
Gaston fought back the beginnings of a smile as his lips twitched. He'd always liked Aiken and Mary, they never failed to put him through the wringer.
And Gaston was man enough to know when a man needed kicking now and again, and Mary and Aiken were just the two folks to do it.
"A good evening to you too, Master Côté. I apologize for the lateness of the hour, monsieur. I would not be here if it were not most dire," he apologized, a pained look flitting across his features as he addressed LeFou's father with as much respect as he could muster, hoping a friendly-enough white smile tinged with just the right amount of worry would aid his cause in begging shelter for Belle for the night.
There was no need for him to pretend at the concern that gripped at his heartstrings.
"My…affianced and I have traveled a great distance today, through the snowfall," he informed the aging man, stepping back and motioning towards Belle as she fought, struggling to remain what was left of her consciousness.
His heart thrilled a bit at describing Belle in such terms, hoping she would come to see the light of all he had done for her and eventually, in time, finally accept his proposal. He hoped it wouldn't be long before his words rang true.
"She's chilled to the bone and exhausted, and she's been hurt," he continued as Monsieur Côté eyed him warily. "I was hoping I might beg of use of the shelter for her for the night while I venture back to the village to fetch help, sir."
Gaston fell silent and bit the wall of his cheek, praying LeFou's father would take pity upon the young mademoiselle.
The old man opened his mouth to say something as a heavy scowl caused lines to deepen upon his forehead, though before he could even utter the first syllable, however, suddenly, the door swung wide open.
A short, stout, slightly plump woman as old as her husband peered into the darkness, trying for a better view of Belle and the horse.
"Riding all day in the snow? Injured you say, Monsieur Dupont? Injured how?" LeFou's mother, Mary, scowled judgmentally at Gaston and folded her arms across her broad chest, a tendril or two of her greying hair falling loose from her messy bun. "How?"
"Yes, Mum," he answered, ducking his head. His shame at least needed no feigning. "It could not be helped. Someone hurt her," he stammered, motioning to his cheek, and making a slicing motion. "I was able to put a stop to it, but she's lost a significant amount of blood and it could get infected if it's not stitched up and treated soon, madam."
Gaston lowered his head forlornly, all the while carefully watching Belle out of the corner of his peripherals. He breathed a sigh of relief when Mary spoke.
"Of course, of course, come in, come in, before the poor child catches her death. She may bed in front of the fireplace for the night. It should keep her plenty warm, we've extra blankets and I'll have Claire get her fixed up."
Claire? Gaston furrowed his dark brows, though before he could ask, a feminine figure moved from behind LeFou's mother and peered over the older woman's shoulder, furrowing thin dark eyebrows for a better look.
LeFou's mother stepped aside as a young woman darted out of the open doorway and towards Gaston's horse, eyeing Belle with a critical but urgent interest.
When she turned back around to cast Gaston a rueful, admonishing look, Gaston, who had been about to speak, felt his throat tighten and his tongue go thick in his mouth, his throat suddenly dry and his mouth useless.
The young mademoiselle who looked a few years older than Belle, perhaps closer to his own age, early thirties, with thick long luscious wavy dark chocolate hair that cascaded down her back and stopped at just past her shoulder blades.
She almost looked like Belle. Pale, a thin, oblong face. The only difference was the lady's eye color. Belle's eyes were rich, dark chocolate, like that of her hair, whilst this one's eyes were light, mysterious hazel, almost amber in the right light. Gaston blinked to clear his mind, realizing that this new young woman had asked him a question.
"Beg pardon, mum?" he stammered nervously. This must be Claire, Gaston thought wildly, racking his brain, and trying to remember how his words worked.
He could not recall the last time, if ever, getting flustered over a young mademoiselle like this that was not Belle. The young woman huffed in frustration as she extended an arm out to help Belle slide off the saddle.
Belle initially appeared reluctant, but eventually, she accepted.
She turned on her heels to face Gaston, one hand-wound around Belle's waist to help her walk inside LeFou's parents' cottage, whilst the other rested firmly on her hip.
"The blood," the young woman whispered, horrified, glancing at Belle briefly, what little color was left in this new woman's face draining as she took in the sight of the huge gash upon Belle's cheek. "Aye, there's so much blood. What in God's name happened to her?" she demanded, furrowing her thin eyebrows and biting down on her bottom lip.
It was only as she ushered Belle inside that Gaston caught sight of old LeFou lingering nervously in the doorway, looking shocked to see his friend with a wounded Belle in tow.
Gaston frowned and shook his head.
Later, he mouthed to his acquaintance, hoping LeFou would take a hint. He looked as though he wanted to say something more, but upon being on the receiving end of a truly withering look from LeFou, he fell silent.
LeFou appeared to look as though he did not appreciate being purposefully kept in the dark like this but begrudgingly stepped aside to allow Gaston entry into his parents' home, nervously trailing after the former war captain as he followed the two women and LeFou's parents towards the fireplace, where a roaring fire had already been lit and was sending its ample warmth and light out into the room and provided enough light for the pretty young brunette to tend to Belle's wounds.
She was in the midst of giving Belle something to bite down on to tamper her screams and try to prevent her from moving while she used her index finger to just barely graze the surface of the wound and determine the best method for treating it.
Belle shuddered as if just the gentle act of the young woman touching it was causing her great pain. Gaston stiffened and gave the petite brunette a threatening look, which she equally returned with one of her own.
Thankfully, at that moment, LeFou's father, Aiken, returned and hurried to the women's side, carrying a dark bottle and a rag and a wooden basin in his arms.
The other girl swiftly poured some clear liquid onto the cloth and held it for a few seconds over Belle's nose and mouth.
She relaxed and would have slumped over had LeFou not darted over with surprising speed and agility that impressed even Gaston, as he knelt behind Belle and gingerly supported her head with his hands until he found a soft pillow for her and rested her head upon that instead.
"What's your name?" Gaston asked in a hoarse voice, hoping some small, light conversation would quell the nerves churning in his stomach. He swallowed hard.
The young woman shot him a suspicious look, quirking a delicately arched eyebrow the hunter's way, before seeming to look to LeFou for confirmation, who hurriedly nodded, as if to the girl that Gaston was alright.
She still appeared reluctant to offer up her name, which gave him pause. It was just a name he had asked of her, what could make her so reluctant to offer up her own?
But she eventually relented and barely looked at him as she spoke in a low, shy murmur.
"Claire, monsieur," she whispered faintly.
I was right then, he thought, glancing sideways at LeFou, who now had since backed away from Belle's unconscious form now laying on her back and motionless while Claire worked.
"Gaston," he offered up in what he hoped was a kind-enough voice, though lacking its usual bravado, as for now, he was too worried about her.
She shot him a knowing look that he couldn't be sure of, but it was almost a smirk as she briefly exchanged a wry, sardonic smile with LeFou.
"I know quite well who you are, Monsieur Dupont. The entire village of Villeneuve knows."
"You live there?" Gaston asked, dumbfounded, forgetting about Belle's injury and physical condition for a moment.
This was new. If this woman, this Claire, was a villager in their village back home, why hadn't he noticed her?
He had tended to notice all of the beautiful women who lived in their village, at least until Belle grew into her beauty, and then Belle was all that Gaston could ever think of. He blanched.
Claire nodded, still not looking at him.
"My father runs the baker's shop, monsieur," she said.
Things were slowly but surely beginning to add up, Gaston thought. His mind felt like it was reeling as it worked to put together the missing pieces of this woman's life.
"And…" he paused, unsure of how best to phrase his next question, but decided to throw caution to the wind here and ask it anyways. "How do you know my friend, LeFou?"
This time, his question did inspire more of a response than just a scoff and an eyeroll.
The young brunette looked up at him incredulously, shooting him a slight look of disbelief and mistrust, as though Gaston had grown two heads.
"I'm LeFou's affianced, Monsieur Dupont."
Gaston almost choked on his own tongue. While happy for his lifelong friend and compatriot, he had always been under the impression that, well… LeFou's interests tended to go the other way.
A sword swallower through and through, Gaston thought bitterly to himself then.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw LeFou shoot him a somewhat challenging look, as though silently daring Gaston to contest this information, but in truth, Gaston was entirely too flabbergasted to do anything much but stare at the young lass.
She really was a beautiful girl. Which made her coupling with LeFou that much stranger to him. "But…why?" he asked the question in spite of himself, not caring if LeFou grew offended by it.
He felt LeFou stiffen and nudge beside him, their shoulders almost touching, the shorter man's posture indicating that the man did not approve.
But it was already too late to take back his words. Gaston saw Claire hesitate as if thinking over her words before she shot LeFou a small, shy, but affectionate smile before turning back to Gaston, her expression growing more serious.
"Because he makes me laugh, monsieur. How's that for your 'why?'" she snapped, almost coldly, causing Gaston to lower his head in shame.
"Forgive me, milady. I meant no offense."
Claire frowned, scowling at Gaston.
"You may not have wished to offend me, Monsieur Dupont," Claire spoke in a hardened tone that almost made him smile, thinking how like his Belle the young woman sounded the angrier she became. "But you have done just that. I don't care for how many years you and my affianced have known each other, Monsieur Gaston. You do not know me, and you certainly do not know LeFou as well as you claim to. It is not your place to make such assumptions of a man you consider a friend, and your assumptions are foolish in nature, sir. LeFou isn't…that," she stammered, a light pink blush speckling along her cheeks as she sat up straighter, forsaking tending Belle's wound for the time being in order to come to LeFou's defense.
Gaston sighed. "My apologies, milady. I was wrong to believe of my friend in such odious terms. If I have offended you or LeFou in any way, I apologize." As if to emphasize his point, he reached over and clapped LeFou on his left shoulder, and then turned his attention back to her. He looked at Claire desperately. "Save her. Please," he implored, his voice cracking as he spoke. Claire could not manage to find her voice.
It was clear that this famous military captain and hunter and owner of the best tavern in town was very much in love with the inventor and painter's daughter, as strange beauty as she was.
All Claire could do was nod her head and pray that she would pull the lovely Belle through. There was no time to lose. Claire turned from the two men and grabbed the necessary instruments which rested in the wooden bowl in her lap as she sat on the floor cross-legged to better work, the skirts of her dress tucked beneath her legs.
Gaston steeled himself as Claire expertly threaded a thread through a needle, preparing to stitch up Belle's cheek to the best of her abilities. He prepared himself to remain at Belle's side throughout the duration of her surgery, though within moments, both he and LeFou were nudged out of the way by LeFou's father, whom Claire called for to remain at her side for his help.
Suddenly, in the cramped room, there was barely enough room for the two friends to stand flush against the wooden wall. Gaston growled.
"Please," Claire called from across the room, her tone clipped and curt. There was a hint of steel laced throughout the young mademoiselle's voice that told the hunter he must listen, and so he did. "You will need to wait over there," she added, pointing with a blood-slimed fingertip to the other side of the room, where LeFou's mother Mary stood at the stove, busy preparing a light supper.
Gaston bristled and scowled a warning at LeFou's future bride. LeFou, in a surprising show of strength, grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him across the small room to the other side, following his affianced' s instructions without complaint. But Gaston fought him the whole way.
"I need to stay with her!" he snapped. Gaston turned the worst of his wrath onto LeFou.
Understanding his friend's hostility, LeFou shot Gaston a sad smile and did his best to calm the man down. "You need to let them work."
"I want Belle to know I'm here," Gaston snarled in almost a pleading tone, his face pained.
"She knows." LeFou tried to comfort him.
With no way of helping Claire or Aiken, and no way of watching over his sweet Belle, and no one upon which to unleash the worst of his anger, Gaston turned away from LeFou and let loose his pent-up anger at what the prince had done upon the wooden wall of LeFou's parents' old cottage.
Clenching his fist and letting out a long furious yell, he slammed his knuckles over and over against the unmoving wood. His skin shredded, but he felt no pain, his mind so focused on Belle and her ordeal, and how this was his fault.
His injury was nothing compared to what Belle was going through. LeFou merely stood back and gave his friend this release, shooting a warning look to both of his parents as they shot Gaston looks of immense disapproval. Claire merely looked startled for a moment but got back to it when Aiken gently prodded her in the elbow.
When there was no more air left in his lungs to scream, and no effort left in his muscles, Gaston collapsed against the wall, furious at Adam's betrayal, and still terrified of what would happen.
Slowly, with much hesitance, LeFou slid down the wall and sat beside Gaston awkwardly.
"She's in good hands with Claire," he encouraged brightly, trying to give Gaston hope.
They sat in silence for a long while, and it seemed hours before Claire finally rose from her perch from sitting on the floor, walking slowly across the room to come to them. The young woman was deliberate in her movements, and her pretty, tired face showed the exhaustion she would not allow her body to feel for hours not just yet.
Gaston rose, unsteady on his feet. He was almost afraid to try to read LeFou's bride's face.
"How is Belle?" he demanded, fear shadowing his hopes that the worst had passed.
Claire looked at Gaston and then at LeFou, her hazel eyes heavy. Taking a deep breath as she wiped her hands on a bloodstained rag, she delivered the news. "Her cheek has been mended. It will, however, scar," she reported, a wary smile finding her cheeks, causing dimples to form then.
Gaston practically dissolved in relief as LeFou grabbed his friend's shoulders and shook him. He embraced Claire and nearly drew her off her feet. Claire smiled and staggered back on her feet once Gaston set her back down on the solid ground, her cheeks flushed pink. She was happy she could bring good news.
However, she was still cautious of declaring Belle fully mended.
"She isn't out of the woods yet," she warned, which immediately tempered both Gaston and LeFou's happiness. "The wound will scar. Of that, there is no fix, monsieur," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It's…it's not pretty," she stammered. "It will take time to heal. I would advise her not to be delved into too much anxiety while she heals, sir."
"I need to see her," Gaston implored, his worry returning tenfold upon listening to her.
Though before Claire could nod and turn on her heels to lead them across the room to supervise the visit, Gaston felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, Gaston found himself staring face-to-face with none other than Mary.
She was carrying a crockery bowl in both hands. From each bowl emanated a cloud of steam that swirled around the wooden handles of the spoons. He caught the truly delicious aroma of a hearty-looking stew in each bowl that made his mouth water, reminding him how hungry he was.
LeFou's aging mother cleared her throat and lifted the food towards Gaston. "For you both," she offered kindly, shooting the hunter a warm-hearted smile. "You both look like you could use a hot meal, Monsieur Dupont." Mary smiled in a matronly sort of way towards Gaston. "You both will need to keep up your strength," she added, nudging the bowls of stew even closer.
Gaston reached out and took the offering of a warm meal gratefully, silently trying to convey his thanks to LeFou's mother with his eyes, balancing both bowls with his right arm. He was almost uncertain how to accept a kindness like this. Given his upbringing and family life, it had afforded him few opportunities to practice it.
"Thank you, Mum," he said, his expression softening with thanks as he smiled at the woman.
"Mary, please, Monsieur Dupont. You know me well enough by now, Gaston. Call me Mary."
"Thank you then, Mary," Gaston dutifully returned, turning on his heels to stride across the room. Belle was awake and cognizant, sitting in front of the fireplace and wrapped in a mound of heavy blankets in hopes of quelling the chill.
Gaston knelt in a crouch by Belle and offered her the dinner that Mary had given him.
The stew was hot and flavorful and brought Belle back to herself a bit. He flinched as he tried not to look at the horrible, jagged pink and red line that went diagonally across her cheek. He counted at least a dozen stitches. He realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that LeFou's bride was right. This wound was going to scar.
That stupid guard had ruined his lovely Belle's face permanently. He ground his teeth in anger, wishing he could kill the guard all over again, this time a much bloodier death would only do for what he had done to his poor Belle.
"How very kind of her," Belle whispered gratefully as she ate, slowly, though every bite she took looked as though it pained her just to eat.
"Yes," Gaston agreed. "Not everyone in France is a monster, Belle." He pondered that idea for a moment while he watched Belle slowly eat, thinking how infrequently it was that he had met anyone in this country with purely benevolent motives. "We owe LeFou's parents and Claire our lives. Were it not for them, I don't know what might have happened," he said, peering over his shoulder to look at LeFou, Claire, and his parents.
It still floored him to think of his oldest friend and comrade paired with a beauty like Claire, and more to the point besides, with Claire seemingly actually wanting the man's affections. For a moment, it vexed Gaston and galled him to think that his friend had gotten the better prize, whereas his own wanted nothing to do with him, not even after he had saved her life tonight.
"I hope not," Belle whispered, taking another bite, startling Gaston out of his darkening thoughts of LeFou and his lovely young bride and back to the matter at hand: getting her back home.
Gaston's heart pounded wildly against his chest, knowing she was lost in another brutal memory. "You won't have to worry about that again, Belle. I'm going to see to it you get home."
Belle smiled, though it seemed an effort for her to do so, and her smile faltered as she winced in pain and raised a shaking hand to her cheek, though she dared not touch Claire's handiwork.
She sighed, comforted for now at least, that even if her face were ruined and it did scar, as the young woman called Claire had warned her that it would when she woke up, that she was still alive.
When Belle had finished her supper, Gaston asked LeFou for another couple of blankets to drape over Belle and create a makeshift bed for her in front of the warm fireplace, not wanting her to catch a chill.
He reclined along her other side and brought his body around her to provide greater warmth as he lay down next to her, with the intent of watching over Belle through the eve.
To his chagrin, she scooted away from him, pulling the blankets LeFou had given her over her body like a protective cocoon to try to ward him off. Gaston bristled, but said nothing, not wanting discord to break out, remembering what Claire had said about Belle not becoming delved into too much anxiety, lest it slow her healing.
The sound of Belle's calm breathing as her chest steadily rose and fell soon lulled Gaston into a heavy sleep. He had meant to stay awake, to watch over Belle and ponder the possibilities throughout the night that might lay open to them along the rest of the path through the Wolves' Wood. However, the reassuring sound of listening to Belle's breathing and knowing his love was alive tonight because of his actions, and the joy in his heart soon gave way as his own exhaustion took hold of him.
He drifted off into a deep sleep, pleasantly dreaming of the life with her for which he yearned.
So deep in the throes of his slumber, was Gaston, that he did not feel it when Belle gingerly removed herself from the makeshift pile of blankets, pulled her cloak tight over her shoulders, and quietly, like a phantom in the night slipping through the shadows, slipped out the front door of LeFou's home, not aware that Claire and LeFou were following Belle outside.
Into the heart of the Wolves' Woods. Claire and LeFou did not know why they were following the young mademoiselle out into the frigid cold, for they did not yet know of Belle's intent to go back. But not back home.
Back to the prince's castle. To that beast.