Beast growled, a deep rumble emitting out of his throat. His face collapsed into his paws. "Why did you ask her to stay?

Mrs. Kensington sighed. She clasped her hands together in front of her. "Well, for one, Your Lordship, it would be good so that the girl may learn to trust you. The more time she spends with you, the more she will see that you are a man, not a beast."

His ears twitched and pressed back into his fur. He snarled.

"If she knows that you are a man, then she won't go telling the townsfolk or her family about the monster who lives in Ashworth Castle."

"Isn't the money incentive enough?" Beast groaned.

Staring off into the distance, Mrs. Kensington replied, "Not if she doesn't know you fully. If she discovers your character, then she will feel more compelled to keep the secret than with money alone."

Beast shook his head like an animal, his fur tossing about wildly. His paws moved to the sides of his face and he gripped onto his fur in frustration. "I wish you would have consulted me first, Mrs. Kensington."

"Well, I knew you wouldn't mind," she said, a slight laugh in her tone.

He huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, the girl loves the castle."

"How would you know?"

"I can see it in her. She loves the estate, the servants, her room. She wants to stay here." Mrs. Kensington's eyes flashed.

"Pfft." Beast leaned back in his seat. "If only the master weren't an animal, she would."

The old lady shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. "That is why you must show her that you are not one. She hasn't even met you yet!"

His eyes trailed over to Mrs. Kensington, challenging her. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in the optimum position to be delighting houseguests."

"You don't have to dine with her, but at least exchange a few words at the funeral," she countered.

"In front of her family?" Beast grunted.

"No, wearing your cover-up, before her family arrives."

Beast snarled, his bottom lip protruding, his nose wrinkling. He leaned over to one side, putting his face into his palm, while his other arm gripped the chair. "I wish I had never got involved in this nonsense," he said, his dark voice painting the room black.

"I know, I know. But this is all that can be done."

Beast remained silent for a moment. His ears twitched as he heard the doctor in the other room, shuffling about, preparing his mother's corpse for the funeral that would be in a few days. Suddenly, Beast sighed and he shut his eyes.

"Fine. But if this little plan of yours backfires, I'm placing the blame on you. You'll have to answer for it."

Mrs. Kensington put her hands on her hips and raised one of her eyebrows. "And just what sort of consequences am I going to face?"

"If I'm still alive and well after this whole ordeal, I'll dock your pay for a year. How does that sound?"

The old lady's eyes sunk into the back of her head; she crossed her arms. "Fair enough. But I really don't think things will go awry. Miss Bourne would do anything to save her family. And once she discovers at the funeral that you're a gentleman—"

Beast scoffed.

"—she will want to stay."

"But what if I don't want her to stay? Did you think of that, Mrs. Kensington?" A small fire lit in his eyes.

She smiled intently. "But what if, after you meet her, you realize you do want her to stay?"

Beast squinted his eyes and bared his teeth together. "I wish that you would leave my mother's wishes in the grave. I don't want to love a woman and I never will."

"Not with that attitude."

He growled. "Oh, be gone already!" He waved his paws for her to leave and then buried his face in them. "You've outlasted your stay. Go tend to some business around the castle. Lord knows there are things to be done."

"That there is." She curtsied, a faint curve on her lips. "I'll leave you be, Your Lordship."

As the woman exited, Beast's tail swished around on the floor. His massive form sulked over.

Suddenly, he heard footfalls approaching—a man's shoes clanking as whoever it was sprinted down the hallway.

"What now?" Beast groaned as he lifted his bloodshot eyes from his paws.

The door to his study burst open, and in came Chesterton. He breathed heavily, a worried look plastered across his pale face. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, his chest heaving.

"What the devil is the matter, Chesterton?" Beast exclaimed, straightening up.

"Your family, Ashworth. They've practically begun rioting."

Beast, suddenly amused, cackled. "Riot? You don't know the meaning of the word 'riot,' Chesterton. There's no way the lot of them could possibly be rioting."

"Practically, I said. Practically." He placed his fingers upon his temple, shutting his eyes and sinking into the doorframe. "Oh, dear. They—mainly the women—were nearly about to cut off my head with all of their questions!" His demeanor changed and he spoke with a high-pitched, mocking tone: "'Well, why isn't he marrying her? Why isn't she marrying him? What would his mother think? Why would he go against his mother's wishes? Why did he lie to her and tell her he had already proposed to the girl and she had agreed to the marriage?'" He flailed his arms about. "As if I could tell them what you were thinking! Yes, of course, I know some things. But it's as if they were speaking directly to you when they were asking me these things! Taking all of their blasted anger out on me! I don't know the answer to everything and I certainly don't—"

"Oh, hush for a moment, Chesterton."

"Of course, of course." The man collected himself.

"Where and when did all of this take place?"

"Just now! In the dining hall!" Chesterton cried. "I was enjoying a pleasant meal with Miss Bourne when—"

"You were?" Beast's brows lifted, surprised.

"Why, yes. I couldn't let her dine alone. Now, moving on. Suddenly, your family came in—the whole lot of them. And one of them—one of your uncles, I think—had the audacity to say 'Welcome to the family, Miss Bourne'. And then I could see it all over her face—the blood draining from her pretty pink cheeks. You'd never seen such horror. The girl stammered for a bit before saying: 'Why... I thought I wasn't marrying His Lordship.' And that's when the whole dining room erupted. They were asking me questions left and right. I didn't know what to do! I had to excuse myself, leaving poor Miss Bourne there to fend for herself—and now, when I think about it, that may not have been the most gentlemanly thing for me to do—but I couldn't stand it there any longer. I had to leave. They were just too uproarious, blaming it on me, as though I were the one going against my mother's dying wishes!"

Beast frowned, his large lips curving into a look of disdain.

Chesterton sucked in air, correcting himself. "Oh, not that that's a bad thing at all!" He waved his hands in front of his chest.

"You've not offended me, Chesterton. At least, not as much as these money-hungry, scraggly alley rats have." He humphed. "They could care less whether or not I marry Miss Bourne, become human, and fulfill my mother's dying wishes. They only want their damned money and to feel as though they have some moral superiority over me. They all despise me." His tone darkened at the final words and his eyes grew black and cold.

Chesterton rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes fluttering about on the floor. "Well, if you really feel that way, you could just ask them to leave?"

Beast shook his head, his mane flopping from side to side. "No, they want to feel included in this whole funeral affair. They want to feel as though they were there for her up to the end of her life—and then they want their money from her and from me as a 'Thank you,' for being such a profound part of it." He snorted, crossing his hairy, muscular arms. "I'll give them what they want so they don't come back."

"Well, Ashworth, you really are a generous man. And for no good reason, too."

Beast lifted his head, his eyes following Chesterton as he swept around the room, heading toward his little chair.

"I feel as though most people would just withhold such finances and find another solution to the whole thing."

"I've been left with more money than I know what to do with."

"Ah, yes. You know, most men would just squander that money, using it for their own selfish intentions. But not you, Ashworth!" He laughed, smiling, a twinkle in his young eyes. "Not you."

"Well, I have no human desires for them. I feel no need to use my money for things I want when I only want most of what I already have. It's the things that I don't want in my life that keep pestering me—and if I can use money to get rid of them, I'll gladly do so."

"What a man you are, Ashworth." Chesterton nodded his head.

"Not a man at all, really."

Chesterton sucked in his tongue.

"For if I could, I would sell this whole estate. But the livelihoods of too many people are at stake. I wouldn't want them to work under a man who did not care about them and give them adequate pension and treatment. And who knows what would happen to the grounds, the forest, and my mother's gardens? Of course, I wouldn't really want to live in the castle, per se, but the woods."

Chesterton's eyes faltered. "But wouldn't you want to stay here in the castle at least some times? For the library and books and… and me?"

"Oh, yes, my companions." Beast laughed heartily. "Well, I stay for them, too, of course."

Chesterton smiled.

"If only I could just be left alone by everything and everyone else I'd be perfectly content." Beast opened one of the drawers at his desk and pulled out a large tome. "But of course, someone in this world—this universe—has cursed me. Perhaps that is the true blight. I've found happiness in being half-beast and half-man—but the true curse is man being unhappy with the fact that I am content." He opened the tome and began shuffling through the pages until one of his dark black claws landed on a bookmark and ribbon.

"Yes, yes," Chesterton said, nodding in agreement. "What nagging, pestering fools some people can be."

"Now, now, Chesterton. Be careful there." Beast smirked, picking up his glasses and putting the tip of them in his mouth. "My own mother was one of those nagging, pestering fools."

"Ha, ha! Yes!" Chesterton practically toppled over laughing. "You know, perhaps it isn't necessarily man that bothers you so, but one sex in particular."

"I know exactly what you mean." Beast's ravenous eyes lit up as he listened with joy.

"And that's why you—and me—shall never marry one of those fiends!"

"But of course!"

"Never!"

"Never!"

◜❦︎◞

Even in death, Beast could hear his mother's thoughts echoing from the casket.

Marry the girl. Marry the girl.

But he wouldn't do it.

The funeral took place that Sunday. It was raining outside and the skies hung low and gray. The walls of the church were a deep red, almost the color of blood. And the pews were dark mahogany. Beast stayed up in the rafters, draped in his black cover-up. He hadn't spoken with Miss Bourne before the service, as he was supposed to. He would certainly be hearing from Mrs. Kensington about it. But alas, he watched every move that anyone made from down below—from the priest, to the guests, to the servants, to the pallbearers, to his family, to Chesterton, to the Bournes.

Beast captured Miss Bourne's image for the first time while inside for the funeral service. Her hair was the color of the morning sunrise and the evening sunset. That reddish-orange glow. It was the texture of natural curls, not the artificial ringlets that her sisters and many women in his family had. It was long and textured and lovely. He didn't really capture much else about her, but for some reason, the image of her fiery hair stayed with him. She hadn't changed much since he last saw her as a young adolescent. Perhaps her figure had become more womanly. As if he would notice such things.

But what he did notice were the conversations that took place amidst the service. Miss Bourne was mostly quiet, but he listened in as she explained to her family the circumstances of their engagement.

"He wasn't ready for marriage, and so the engagement's been called off. But he has still agreed to give us the money anyway, as a testament of good friendship and comradery between you, Father, and Her Ladyship."

At least the girl kept her word. He didn't have to worry about that.

But after the joyous yelps and whoops echoing from her family—particularly her father—Beast noticed something else. Certain whispers crept up to his wolf-like ears. Whispers between Miss Bourne's two sisters, with smirks on their faces and snickers sounding from their mouths.

"I'd be willing to bet that he called off the engagement not because he wasn't ready to marry, but because he didn't want to marry her. What Lord in his right mind would want to marry such a poor, plain thing?" They sniggered.

Beast scoffed. By all accounts, the two of them seemed much plainer—even with his limited understanding of feminine beauty standards—than their sister. But it's likely they only were envious and said such things to elevate their own egos. He rolled his eyes.

As he listened in on other conversations and watched other people, however, Beast could not help but feel the slightest twinge of pity for the girl and what bullying she likely had to endure her entire life at the hands of her own two sisters. He could certainly relate to such.

His mother was buried in a mausoleum outside of the castle. Hardly anyone remained for the burial even though it was protected under a large, dark black tent from the rain. Most left the church and went back to their own homes. The Bournes came, however. Beast watched and listened to them from his black and silver carriage.

Again, he heard certain whispers while his mother was being buried:

"What does he look like, Lizzie?"

"I don't know. I never saw him."

After his mother's casket was shut away, beside his father, concealing her forever in a stony tomb, everyone left. Mrs. Kensington had invited the Bournes to stay for a couple of nights if they wished—and, of course, they delightfully agreed. They all headed to the castle's entrance, into the warmth of the indoors and away from the cold, harsh rain.

Beast checked his surroundings before leaping out of his carriage. His paws smacked hard against the cold, wet ground. His paws sloshed around in the mud. Mists hung around him. He usually liked the scent of rain—that fresh scent—but not on the day of his mother's funeral. The rain on his mother's funeral was old and rotten, the stench of green and yellow lightning that streaked against the black and purple sky. It was like a festering sore, a rotting corpse—all the different colors and smells of decomposition were displayed in the evening sky, that hellish spring storm.

Even the crows and birds knew it was time to leave. He heard them cawing and saw them fluttering away, heading to hide in the forest, for the storm would only become worse. He wished that he could join them in the forest; his heart longed for solitude, shelter, and comfort there.

But another part of him wanted this time with his mother, this time alone that he could not have previously at the church. He listened to this other part of himself.

Beast trekked up the marble steps, leaving his muddy pawprints and residue on the white stone. He opened the door, its hinges creaking. Thunder clapped outside.

But, even though he had expected it to be fully dark, a small bit of candlelight erupted from inside the mausoleum. He shut the door behind him, making sure to keep his cover-up on.

"Hello?" the shaky voice of a young woman called, echoing against the marble walls.

Beast's dark, yet soft, voice crooned in response: "Hello, miss. Excuse me for intruding." He took a few steps forward when suddenly, he was met face-to-face with the fiery curls of the woman he had been spotting before—the woman who had almost become his bride.

A look of terror came across her face as she took in his giant form. He hadn't realized just how small she was. There were tears that hung off from her chin before dropping to the floor. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes red. The redness around her irises only made them an even icier blue. Her lips were wet and pouty. Her skin was gleaming with the wetness of the tears and the mists and rain from outside.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, her lips barely moving as she spoke. Her face fell to the ground after her eyes searched through his cover-up for a few seconds. The girl picked up her candle on the floor. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you be. I just wanted to stay for a few more minutes."

"Oh, no, it's quite alright." His voice was somehow gentle and soft, even if it was considerably dark and low compared to hers. "I wasn't going to stay for long."

"Well, alright then, if you insist." She tucked a loose strand of fire behind her ears.

They remained in silence for a few moments. Beast tried to keep his eyes on his mother's tomb, but he couldn't help but take in the small frame of Miss Bourne. Her curls covered up her face but he still glanced at the dark black and silvery gown she wore. They both faced the tomb, although stood a good bit apart from one another. He could smell her fear. That enticing, intoxicating scent.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked suddenly, his eyes on her.

"Yes…" she said. She shook a little before speaking: "I'm so sorry for your loss, Your Lordship."

He took a step back. It was the first time someone had ever said anything like that to him. Of course, he was usually covered and in hiding during most funerals—so if someone did mean the sentiment, they certainly were never able to express it to him.

"Well… thank you, Miss Bourne." He looked at his mother's tomb and suddenly, he felt the weight of her death on him. It came so quickly. He winced and his eyes drew close together. There was a funeral procession in his heart, the pounding of the funeral drum.

"I should likely retire for the evening now." The girl interrupted his dark, black thoughts.

"Oh." His head shot up. "Would you like for me to escort you back to your room, Miss Bourne? It's beginning to get dark out."

"I-" Something caught in her throat. "I suppose that's fine, Your Lordship. Thank you."

"Of course, miss."

She wouldn't like it if he extended his arm out to her, even if it was what he was supposed to do. And so he kept his arms at his side as the two of them walked out of the mausoleum together.

Rain snuffed out the candle. Beast couldn't tell the difference between Rose's tears and droplets of rain pouring down her cheeks. But the girl quickly drew out her umbrella, and so he could not see her face anymore. Beast took longer strides until he was walking a few paces ahead of her, leading the way.

The mausoleum was at the back of the castle and so he escorted her through the rear entrance. A few servants were there to attend to him and Miss Bourne as they each arrived up the steps. A few surprised looks were cast his way. He knew why. It was such a strange occurrence, but Beast couldn't quite grasp why he was doing it. After all, he could have just left her there, or he could have let her leave and he could be alone beside his mother's grave. He could have left to go to the forest afterward and find solitude there.

But something about Miss Bourne—with her fiery locks—drew him to her. Why? He couldn't quite put a claw on it. But behind the musky smell of the rain that doused her gown as well as perfumes that masked her natural scent, he smelled something that he liked. She smelled almost the way he had expected an elven forest to smell.

He was even drawn to speak to her. "I hope you like it here, Miss Bourne," he said as they walked from the lower quarters of the castle, through the hallways. "I hope your stay is delightful…" He snickered a little. "Even if you did not have the most joyous beginning: A gloomy funeral."

Suddenly, Miss Bourne hesitantly giggled. A sound he'd never heard from a young woman before. Especially not a sound directed at something he had said. It sounded like magic, and fairies beating through the forest. Like the ringing of bells as their wings fluttered about, leaving trails of dust.

"I've actually really enjoyed my stay thus far." Her voice was like a song in his ears. "It's such a lovely estate."

"Thank you, Miss Bourne," he replied. "I quite like it as well, or I wouldn't be living here."

Again, she giggled—the ringing sound of fairies flying.

They walked in silence for the rest of the way to her room. Once they arrived at the round, wooden door, Miss Bourne thanked him for escorting her and curtsied.

"Of course." He bowed and opened up the door. She slipped on by him, and although she kept her head down, he noticed that her eyes fell on him for a moment, before they faltered and fell to the floor. He smelled that same fear again—a scent separate from the one of nymphs and fairy dust, but nonetheless intoxicating.

Beast shut the door and stood, peering at it for a few moments.

It was like she were a nymph, and she lived in another world, and this was the door to that other world.

She wasn't like the romantic paintings of Grecian women at all—like he had been expecting—but rather, a forest nymph from the woods outside of his castle. She had been from here all along and he had never known it.