Auhor's note: Hello lovely readers! Sorry for the long-ish wait. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. As always, thank you for the reviews/follows/favourites/support.

Enjoy!

Kent

October 1912

Belle swore she had just come to the library to polish the windows and dust that morning, but after an hour of being alone in the grand room, completely surrounded by books, her temptations gave in yet again.

As the weeks passed, cleaning the library either by herself or in the company of the other maids had become part of her daily routine (much to Belle's content). She found it put her mind at ease, especially with everything that's happened with Mr. Holloway, and not to mention Lady Brankford's schemes to replace Mr. Adam as heir with her own son.

Her worries all seemed to float away as she slowly descended the step ladder where she had been dusting one of the chandeliers and tip toed across the floor to the nearest shelf. But even so – she proceeded with caution. It felt as if a monster were sleeping in the same room and that and any noise whatsoever would awaken it. She was also constantly looking over her shoulder towards the door in case Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth walked by. Mr. Adam had gone riding that morning – so at least she didn't have to worry about him at present.

When she reached the shelf, Belle was overjoyed to find one of her favourites, Romeo and Juliet sitting there, idle as can be.

This was not Belle's first time pulling one of His Lordship's books from their shelves to read as much as she could before getting back to work. In fact, she'd done so more times than she was willing to admit. But she couldn't seem to stop. Without ever leaving the library, Belle traveled the world. It was as if she was getting her wish without spending a single pound.

Reading in such a way wasn't ideal, however. It would be nice to read without spending half the time looking over her shoulder for passers-by that might catch her, and not to mention standing stiffly the whole time, unable to completely relax.

Belle was so engrossed in the play that she almost didn't notice the sound of footsteps passing outside the door. As they grew closer, her heart practically stopped. Quickly, she placed the book back in its proper position on the shelf and returned to dusting the chandelier. She was just fast enough that Cogsworth hadn't noticed her rushing as he entered the library. Belle hadn't realized exactly how much time had passed as she read the play, but it was clear by the butler's confused expression that it had longer than she thought.

"You're still here?" Cogsworth asked in a gruff, baritone voice.

"Almost finished," Belle replied.

"The servants' luncheon is in half an hour, and I don't suspect the others will be patient."

Belle nodded her head. "Of course."

The butler left without any further comment, and Belle hastily returned to her work, relieved the butler hadn't caught her readings books that weren't her own. Still, she couldn't imagine actually owning such a large collection – if she did, she would stay in the library and never come out (except, of course, when she was actually able to travel).

After finishing with the chandeliers, Belle gathered her supplies and headed down to the servants' hall, where the kitchens maids were busy setting the table for luncheon. She put away the cleaning materials in one of the store closets and joined the gathering staff around the table.

"I said it once, and I'll say it again," Lumiere said, coming into the room and taking a seat at the table. "If I ever complain about meals when Mr. Adam is alone, remind me of the dinners last month."

Belle laughed. "You've been saying that ever since they left."

"And every day it's true."

Plumette entered the servants' hall soon after, and sat across from Lumiere. Belle noticed that whenever the two made eye contact, Plumette forced a gentle smile that didn't last long. Belle knew what was troubling her, of course. It wasn't easy to be keeping not just one, but two secrets from your sweetheart, especially two very big secrets.

Belle had told Plumette that it would be okay if she told Lumiere the truth about Mr. Holloway. He liked gossip, but would never share a story that involved Plumette.

Keeping both secrets for the past month had been a chore like any other in the house, and some days Belle longed to pour her heart out to someone, anyone. It was a blessing that Plumette knew everything too, but avoided the topic of Mr. Holloway all together, and still hadn't decided on a time to tell Mr. Adam about the letter.

That fact, perhaps, was the most nerve racking. Sooner or later, Lady Brankford would discover the letter hadn't been sent, and Belle dreaded to think what that would mean for her and Plumette's positions.

"Belle?"

Her head snapped up, and realized Lumiere had been talking to her. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I was distracted."

"My, you and Plumette both. Is there some big secret you're keeping from us?"

"Of course not, just a lot of work to do. Now what were you asking?" Belle quickly changed the subject. There would be no more talk of secrets surrounded by the entire Theron staff, if she had anything to say about it.

"I was wondering what you were going to do with your half-day off?" Lumiere asked, picking a roll from the centre of the table.

Belle cleared her throat. "I'm planning on visiting my father," she replied. "I've only been to the cottage a few times since taking the job here. He says he misses me very much."

"I can imagine."

"Yes… He's never been on his own before," Belle said rather slowly, as if realizing it herself for the first time. "But what about you? Do you and Plumette have something special planned?"

"Yes, we want to take a walk around Cantebury for the day. Perhaps have dinner at one of the pubs there," the footman replied, smiling and looking at Plumette, whose attention was elsewhere.

"That sounds lovely," she said.

"If only Plumette were more enthusiastic."

"I'm sure she is."

Lumiere smiled gratefully, and the luncheon passed with quiet conversation. Most of the staff were talking about what they were going to do with their half-days off, though Cogsworth was quick to remind them that a half-day meant a half-day, and nothing more. He didn't seem too excited with the idea of acting as the sole footman at dinner, even if it would be just Mr. Adam in the room.

After luncheon, Belle and Plumette went upstairs to their room to change for the afternoon. The endless list of chores they'd had when Mr. Adam's relatives were staying had become less endless with their departure, and Belle felt as if she should be doing more. However, being less busy than before had allowed her time to sneak a few minutes of reading when she was supposed to be cleaning the library. It was foolish of her to be doing so, of course, knowing she could be easily caught by Cogsworth, or Mrs. Potts, or Mr. Adam, but she couldn't help it.

When she'd been leaving at the cottage with her father she only had access to a few books, but in the Theron library, her options increased tenfold.

"Belle, another button fell off one of Mr. Adam's coats. He's asked you to mend it," Plumette said as she secured a new bonnet on her hair.

Belle sighed and rolled her eyes at Plumette's request, though it wasn't technically a request given that it was Mr. Adam who had asked it.

"Again?" she asked, tying the apron behind her back and securing the bonnet on her head. She was hoping to get a little time to herself before starting her afternoon chores. Evidently, Mr. Adam had other plans. "This is the fifth one this month. Soon he'll have no more buttons to fall off his coats."

Plumette laughed as she handed Belle the coat and loose button. "It is strange that the buttons would start falling off so suddenly."

"It's because he wants me to return it to him personally after it's been mended. That's why Chappeau doesn't do them, even though he should be."

"Sounds to me like he fancies you," Plumette teased, leaning against the door frame of their small room.

Over the past two months, Belle had added more sketches and small paintings from her father, and even one of his intricate music boxes that now sat on the chest of drawers. Its gold polished exterior seemed to breathe new life into the otherwise grey room.

"Mr. Adam does not fancy me," Belle insisted. "He's bored, he's looking for some form of entertainment. It's getting rather annoying, I should tell him straight out."

There was a pause between them, and Plumette looked down, averting her eyes from Belle's gaze.

"Speaking of which," Belle continued. "You still haven't told Mr. Adam about Lady Brankford's scheme. It's been over a month and she is bound to notice the lack of reply."

"I know, I know," Plumette said in a frustrated tone. "But after that dreadful business with Mr. Holloway…"

"It did make things very difficult." Belle confessed.

Though it had been a month since they'd carried his body from one side of Theron to the other, Belle still got anxious whenever they had to clean both Lady Theresa and Mr. Holloway's rooms. She tried to tell herself that the whole business was behind her. They did nothing that morning to arouse any suspicion, and no one suspected anything.

Mr. George Holloway had passed of a heart attack, and that was that.

They'd heard no gossip from London, but then again, Theron seemed so cut off from the city that even if there was gossip about Mr. Holloway and Lady Theresa, it wouldn't reach their ears.

"There has been no ideal time to bring it up," Plumette said, her voice distraught. Belle knew that they would have to tell Mr. Adam as soon as possible. Their jobs were at stake, after all.

"We should today," Belle decided. "When I bring his coat back to him. He's bound to be in the library, he always is."

Plumette smiled and nodded. "Right."

The afternoon passed quickly and without commotion, and before Cogsworth rang the dressing gong, Plumette and Belle approached Mr. Adam in the library. Plumette was fidgeting with Lady Brankford's letter in her hands, crinkling the ivory-coloured envelope. Belle had her employer's mended coat in her hands, mentally stopping herself from fiddling with the buttons until they were once again loose.

"Pardon to interrupt, sir," Belle said firmly as the two approached Mr. Adam, who was seating on a chaise longue and lost in another book.

He looked up at the two maids, at first slightly taken aback and annoyed by their interruption, but his expression softened upon seeing Belle.

"Yes?" Mr. Adam asked, setting down his book beside him.

"Your coat, sir," Belle said, holding it out in her hands.

"Oh yes. Thank you," he replied, as if forgetting he'd ever assigned her to mend it. He got up from his seat and took it from her, his fingers lingering a little too long against hers. It didn't make Belle completely uncomfortable, in fact, she derived a sense of comfort by his slight touch. But when the coat was in Mr. Adam's hands she quickly pulled away, not wanting to give him the wrong impression.

Plumette cleared her throat, and Mr. Adam blinked.

"Is there anything else?" He asked, setting the coat on the arm of the chaise and sitting back down.

"Yes, actually," Plumette said, stepping forward a bit. "When the your relatives were staying here last month, I overheard something troubling from Lady Brankford."

This caught Mr. Adam's attention, and he straightened in his chair. "Oh, really?"

"Her ladyship was talking with Lady Theresa about replacing you as the heir of Theron with her own son, Mr. Edward," she continued.

A deep silence hung in the air with Plumette's words as Mr. Adam considered them. To Belle's surprise, he didn't seem shocked or taken aback by the news. Then again, by judging Lady Brankford's character, she seemed like the type of person to usurp her nephew's inheritance.

"That is troubling," Mr. Adam finally answered. "But not entirely surprising. Aunt Margaret never liked me. She and my father have that in common." The last sentence was said more to himself than anything, and in a quieter tone than his previous words. He looked back up at the maids. "Is that all?"

"There's actually a letter that Lady Brankford wrote," Plumette said, pulling out the letter from her skirt pocket. "To his Lordship. We assume it has to do with trying to convince him to replace you with Mr. Edward."

Belle and Plumette gave a short glance to one another, hoping Mr. Adam didn't suspect they had read it. He took the letter gratefully, but didn't open it.

"Why didn't you come to me before? It's been over a month since they'd left," he asked.

"We wanted to, sir," Belle replied. "But with all the business regarding the late Mr. Holloway –"

"Yes, I understand. It must have been a shock for everyone downstairs."

"Quite, sir," Plumette said.

Mr. Adam nodded, but didn't say anything. He looked at the letter again, considering it with great certainty. It was silent for a while, making Belle think he'd forgotten they were in the room with him. Finally he looked up from the letter.

"Thank you for telling me this," he said sympathetically. "I'll decide what to do next. I shouldn't keep you from your work."

"Thank you, sir," Plumette said, and the two maids started to leave the library.

"And Belle!" Mr. Adam called. She turned, almost afraid of whatever he was about to say, but his expression was soft. "Thank you for mending my coat."

"Not at all," Belle smiled.

As the two maids left the library, Belle breathed a sigh of relief. First, because Mr. Adam hadn't questioned whether they had opened the letter, and second, because it felt much better to only have the weight of one secret on her shoulders, as opposed to two.

When the two housemaids disappeared from Adam's view, he took the letter in his hands and opened it with a letter opener from the bureau by the window. When Plumette and Belle had presented it to him, he'd gotten the sense that they already knew its contents. The very notion was cause enough for dismissal without a reference, but he knew they were only trying to help him, something people very seldom did. As such, he didn't pursue the topic.

Adam scanned the contents of the letter, and as Plumette had said, they were indeed about his aunt's scheme to replace him with his cousin as heir to Theron. While it wasn't surprising that his aunt would plot such a thing is this, it infuriated him that if the letter had reached his father, he would have agreed to it.

He continued reading, and realized the plot was far worse that he'd imagined. Marry within a year… forfeit everything to Edward…

In his anger, Adam balled the parchment in his fist and tossed it in the fire, riding himself of its existence. When Aunt Margaret wondered why his father never received it, he'd say it could have simply got lost in the mail. He didn't know what Plumette and Belle had gone through to acquire it, but he wouldn't throw them under the bus. He didn't think he could live with himself if he left the two maids to his aunt's wrath.

Adam shook his head, trying to forget these scenarios. It was done with. The letter was gone, though knowing his aunt, she wouldn't give up so easily.

He walked over to a polished table by the windows, which used to display a wealth of family portraits before his mother passed. His father had removed all of them, storing them away in the attic, probably. Most of them had been of Adam and his mother, though there had been a wedding photograph or two where both the bride and groom had looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there.

From a very young age, those photographs had taught him the relationship between his parents. An arranged marriage between the eldest son of an earl and the middle daughter of a viscount in which neither party had enough interest to conceive a second child.

His mother had never told him why they'd gotten married, though now he assumed it probably had to do with money. It always had to do with money. Though his mother's father was only a viscount, they were incredibly rich, even richer than some of the dukes. He wanted her to marry up the ranks, and his father's parents wanted her money to help get the estate back on its feet. And it had worked, for a while, until Adam started to gamble and spend all their money on clothes and expensive alcohol.

Now he was in the same position as his father, though he refused to marry like he did. Adam was not a fortune hunter. He may be ashamed that his father hid him away in the country with a decreased allowance, out of sight and unable to cause trouble, but he still prided himself too much to marry a woman just for her fortune. He was better than that, at least, he hoped he was.

Though it was scarcely past luncheon, Adam poured himself a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter on the table, and turned towards the chaise he'd been sitting on. His coat was there, resting on its arm, and he couldn't help but smile.

He picked it up with his free hand and inspected the work done by Belle. It was perfect, he couldn't even tell he'd ripped it off in the first place. He imagined her fingers doing the intricate work, and then imagined those fingers coursing through his hair, up and down his arms, along his back–

Adam shook his head and took a large sip of the alcohol. He was getting ahead of himself. Belle was the last person he could ever hope to be intimate with, and let alone marry.

Though, seeing her that day had given him a sense of joy no other woman had ever done, and he ached to see her again. Setting down his glass, he started to pull at another one of the coat's buttons, but stopped himself before he completely tore the button from its seam. Belle would know he was doing it on purpose if it was from the same coat.

Abandoning his glass, he rushed upstairs to his room and pulled out another, older coat from his dressing room. With a single motion, he tore one of the buttons from the opening and ringed the bell beside his bed.

Within minutes, Chappeau entered the room.

"You called, sir?" he asked, in a somewhat bored tone.

Adam held out the coat and button. "It seems another button has fallen off one of my coats. Can you see that Belle mends it and brings it to me?"

"I'd be happy to mend it myself, sir," the valet said, taking the coat and button from Adam's hands. "I think the housemaids are quite busy–"

"Oh, nonsense, she be happy to," Adam insisted, wishing now to be left alone.

"Alright, sir," Chappeau grumbled. "Perhaps you should invest in better coats." The valet left the room without saying anything else and Adam laid back on the bed, giving himself to thoughts of Belle.

During breakfast the next morning, another letter came from Ned. There hadn't been many since the news of the late Mr. Holloway reached London, and Adam thought it was because Ned was trying to distance himself from it. In a way, Mr. Holloway's death and been a blessing in disguise. Theron received no visitors after that, and he was sure his father wouldn't attempt to push another eligible woman on him for quite some time.

Theron had been at peace for a month, though his aunt's inheritance scheme and his own feelings for Belle certainly managed to complicate things.

Adam opened the letter, and read through its contents while taking small sips of his tea.

To the Honourable Adam Savoy –

Adam,

I'm sorry I haven't written lately, it's this ghastly business with the late Mr. Holloway, the poor fellow. Mother and Father insisted I halted my letters to you, but they're out this evening and what the eye doesn't see, the heart can't grieve over.

The gossip about it had died down now, though there are a fair share of rumours concerning the situation. Some including the name of your cousin, but I shan't bore you with it. It seems it's causing enough trouble between her and her fiancé as it is.

I hate being kept in the dark about why you're stuck in the country, but nevertheless, I hope you're having a pleasant time (though I can't see how that's possible without my parties to attend).

I should tell you – I've met a lovely young woman, Lady Caroline Weston, a daughter of the Duke of Warwick and we got on very well. I hope to see more of her, and I hope you'll be able to meet her. She's terribly smart and a very good hunter – so she says.

I think my parents just returned from their dinner so I better be off. All the best to you.

Your friend,

Ned.

As Adam finished reading the letter, he leaned back on his chair. He was jealous of his friend's life, he admitted, and was surprised that he'd written despite his parents' wishes to keep away. Though, Ned always had a rebellious nature.

He smiled as he read through the letter again, realizing it was the first time he read a letter from Ned with such fondness and admiration. Though he still couldn't bring himself to write a reply, especially with all these supposed rumours spreading around the city concerning Mr. Holloway and Theresa.

It seemed ludicrous to him, that any unpleasant rumour should form about Theresa. Her mother was a schemer, to be sure, but Theresa had always prided herself in keeping out of it.

Adam thought back to that night, how he'd caught Mr. Holloway making advances on Theresa, though she seemed far less interested in what he'd been hoping for. Adam thought he'd scared the man well enough to discourage any further advances, but perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Mr. Holloway had visited Theresa that night…

Taking another bite of his breakfast, he put the subject to rest. It was not what he wanted to be thinking first thing in the morning. Instead, he read his friend's letter a third time.

Belle was already annoyed she hadn't been able to sneak a few pages of reading in the library that morning, but that Mr. Adam had once again asked her to mend another button on one of his coats made matters worse. It was clear to her now that he was only doing it to see her, and while she could admit seeing Mr. Adam was pleasant enough, it frustrated her that his only excuse was to add to her workload, like she had nothing better to do that mend his coats.

She did, however, find the time to mend the coat Chappeau had brought down the day before, but she was now prepared to tell him she didn't care for his advances. She figured she wouldn't be dismissed out of hand – she hoped – but that Mr. Adam would respect her enough to agree with her.

Mr. Adam's scandalous reputation had so far been proven wrong in Belle's eyes, and she hoped he wouldn't disappoint her.

Upon entering the library, her employer was once again on a chaise longue reading to his heart's content, something Belle wished she could be able to do.

"Ah! Belle, good morning!" He smiled brightly, setting down his book.

"Good morning, sir," Belle replied. "Your coat's been mended." She handed him the coat.

"Thank you," he replied, taking it and setting it over the arm of the chaise. "I wish the damned buttons would stay on."

"Please don't pretend, sir," Belle said, taking a deep breath and reminding herself not to raise her voice unnecessarily.

Mr. Adam gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know very well want I mean."

"I just wish I could see more of you," he sighed, catching on.

"We see plenty of each other, sir. Besides, I'd rather you not tear apart your clothing and add to my workload unnecessarily. I find it rather infuriating."

He swallowed. "You're right, I understand."

"I don't think you do." Belle's words left him speechless, and she continued. "These advances – the staff downstairs are starting to catch on. It's dangerous, for me more than anything. If anyone were to suspect a more-than-friendly relationship between us, I could lose my job and have no reference. Of course, you wouldn't have to bear the brunt of the consequents. Only endure a bit of scandal, which I'm sure you're used to." Belle gasped at her own words and mentally hit herself. "I beg your pardon, sir. I didn't mean to say any of those things. It just sort of came out."

She averted her eyes from his gaze and her cheeks flushed a deep red. Now she'd done it. She'd gone simply to talk to him and now she would lose her job because of it. Sweat was beading down her forehead. But to her surprise, Mr. Adam didn't dismiss her or lose his temper.

"To be honest, I think I deserved that," he said, the corner of his lips curling into a soft smile. He stood from the chaise and approached her. "I want to make your work experience here as comfortable as possible," he said. "And I'm sorry if I've interfered with that in any way. Of course, I'll respect your wishes."

"That's all I ask," Belle said, a wave of relief rushing through her. They stood together in silence for a moment, until Belle gazed at the clock.

"I should get back to work, Mrs. Potts is expecting me."

"Yes of course," he replied, shaking himself out of his daze. "I shouldn't want to anger Mrs. Potts."

Belle smiled and left, but once again, Mr. Adam's voice stopped her.

"Belle!" He called out, like he had the day before. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saying those things to me. I mean it."

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled again, and she left the room, much happier than when she'd gone in.

The days at Theron started to blur together for Belle. Almost every day was the same routine of cleaning, eating, and more cleaning. However, she tried not to let the repetition get her down. She did, after all, sneak in a few hours' worth of reading in the library each week, and she had yet to be discovered. Though with any luck, she wouldn't be.

Finally, her half-day off came, and after cleaning the breakfast room with Plumette, she raced back up to her room to change. After changing from her maid's dress to a simply blue frock, she said goodbye to the servants in the hall and walked from Theron down to the village.

The air was cold in the late October morning, and the leaves on the trees surrounding the estate shone orange, red, and yellow. Many of the leaves had already fallen to the ground, though the gardeners were busy raking them from the manicured lawn.

Belle pulled her coat a little tighter over her shoulders as she left the Theron grounds and entered the village. Her father's cottage was only a ten-minute walk, and though she enjoyed autumn very much, she was much too excited to see her father again.

She'd made visits down to the cottage before, of course, but Mrs. Potts only granted so many half-days it made it seem as though she never saw her father anymore, especially after living with him her whole life. It had only been a week or two ago when she'd received a letter from her father addressed from a modest hotel in London. He explained that he was there to sell his music boxes at one of the pop-up markets, and was bringing her back something special. That was her father, always mysterious, she thought as she turned down the street towards the cottage.

Brighton Crescent, named for a chap from the village who'd fought in the Boer Wars, was a tiny little street lined with stone cottages of varying sizes. A family-run general store lay at the street's end, which had always made errands more convenient during the winter.

As Belle approached the cottage, she could see that her father was already outside, checking on the winter vegetables.

"I hope I'll be able to bring back some of your famous butternut squash for the others to try," Belle said, smiling and coming up towards the gate.

Maurice wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up. He extended his arms towards her and she hugged her father tightly.

"You're lucky," he said once they separated. "The crops have been good this autumn."

"And how was London?" She asked with a curious smile.

"Same as always," he replied. "Too large and too busy." He gestured for her to enter the small cottage, and he followed her in. "Sales were good, though," he continued, putting a kettle of water on the stove to boil.

"That's wonderful to hear," Belle said, sitting at the small wooden table in the kitchen. After setting out a set of modest china tea cups and saucers, he walked over to the far side of the room and brought over a tall brown paper package.

"And, I got this for you," he said, handing her the package.

"Thank you." Belle had a feeling she already knew what the parcel contained, but she still smiled curiously as she untied the twine and opened it. She gasped in delight. Wrapped in the brown paper, were two red roses, bright crimson.

"They're beautiful, Papa!" She exclaimed, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. Maurice laughed. "Just because you live at the big house now doesn't mean I can't still get you your favourite item from London. And besides, they'll add some colour to your room, I think."

"They certainly will, how wonderful!"

The next few hours passed in light conversation, mainly about Belle's time as a housemaid. Eventually the topic of Mr. Adam's advances came up, and Belle blushed. "I'm afraid I gave him a rather harsh telling-off," she admitted, taking a sip of her tea.

"And yet, you're still employed."

"Yes…" Belle trailed off for a moment, thinking pensively. "He's not like what his reputation perceives him as." And it was true. When she'd started at Theron, she assumed Mr. Adam would be quick to raise him voice, lose his temper, perhaps throw a crystal scotch glass or two at the wall. Granted, he did keep to himself most days, skulking around the estate. But when she and Mr. Adam talked, he seemed like an ordinary gentleman struggling with the idea of marriage. Suddenly, it didn't seem fair to Belle, that his Lordship sentence his son into a marriage with no hope of love. But then again, she didn't know what he got up to in London before being sent to Theron.

"Speaking of…" Maurice took his tea cup and saucer over to the sink, and then took Belle's as well. "That Mr. Leroux has been asking after you."

Belle groaned. It was bad enough he'd annoyed her with advances almost every day, but it was worse to think that her father was now bearing the brunt of it with her living at the big house.

"I've told him day in and day out that you're not interested, but he can't seem to get it through his thick skull," he explained with a slight chuckle.

"No, he wouldn't," Belle sighed. "I trust you haven't been sharing when my half-days are?"

"Now what kind of father would I be if I did that?" He smiled encouragingly.

"If he ever shows up at the servants' entrance at the big house, I'm sure Cogsworth would give him a piece of his mind." She looked at the small mantel clock above the fire place. "Speaking of which, it's time I headed back. Mrs. Potts will be very cross if I'm not back in time for the dressing gong."

Maurice stood and kissed her on the forehead. "Well, then I won't keep you. If you're able to come back in a week or so, those squashes should be ready to harvest. And," he walked over to his small corner studio, behind a large wooden easel. "A few more sketches," he said, handing her a small stack of parchment.

"Oh, these are beautiful," Belle gasped, looking at each of the sketches. There were a few of Belle as a child, in the arms of her mother, some of the garden, and one of Theron. The detail her father captured of the estate nearly took her breath away.

"When did you find the time to do this?" She asked, showing her father the sketch of Theron.

"After I dropped you off that first day, I stood on the grounds of the estate for a long while, and over the next few weeks I started sketching it. Some from memory, some from actually setting up the easel there." He paused for a moment. "Mainly, it was to remind myself that you're not alone in that big house."

"I appreciate it," Belle smiled warmly. "And I have friends, I promise."

They laughed together for a moment.

"I'm not an outsider." Not like here. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't let them be heard.

"I didn't think you'd be," Maurice replied, walking her to the front door. He kissed her on the cheek, and then Belle was off, walking back to Theron with both the roses and the sketches in hand. It just occurred to her how her father might have been worried about her being an outsider at Theron, like she was in the village. She hadn't worried too much because in her eyes, Theron was a place of employment to eventually allow her to follow her dreams. Making friends had been completely secondary. But now, she couldn't imagine working without Plumette, or Lumiere, or Mrs. Potts, or even Cogsworth.

After only two months of working there, Theron was really starting to feel like a second home, and its staff her family.