Nothing Like the Rest of Us
Adam paced his bureau like a caged animal. Tension stiffened his shoulders to the point of aching pain, and his fists clenched at his sides. A year ago he'd be destroying the room: breaking chairs, throwing books, maybe even pounding the desk into a pile of sticks. But he was a prince now, and princes weren't able to vent their rage through physical exertion.
If he had to sit back and watch that vile creature and her minions demean, degrade, or insult Belle one more time, he'd lock her in the tower and throw away the key!
Adam was in complete awe of Belle's poise and fortitude as she endured the wretched witch's harsh words with grace and dignity. She was passing this test with flying colors and so he needed to remain the model prince everyone expected him to be. He couldn't ruin all her hard work by letting his temper get the best of him. Not this time. Not when their future hung so precariously in the balance.
But it was difficult. The countess and her daughters were tedious and vain on top of the pressure Legacé placed on him and Belle. The eldest daughter found any excuse to be near him, and it felt as if Legacé encouraged the behavior. This was odd, since if Belle even looked at him for more than a few moments the governess would snap at her for being inappropriate. But Lady Patrice could sit beside him at all meals, flirting and conversing with him—as if he had any interest in her at all—while Belle was placed at the far end of the table, hardly within shouting distance. It was beyond infuriating.
What he wouldn't give for just a few seconds alone with Belle again. It felt like years since he'd held her in his arms, whispering sweet nothings, and planning their happily ever after in the quiet darkness of his chambers.
The inquisition needed to end. Now.
He just had to figure out a way to politely, and respectfully, tell the old bat and her unwelcome strumpets to hit the road.
A knock resounded at his bureau door, and instead of bidding whomever it was to enter, Adam strode to the door and flung it open.
Fist in the air, poised to knock again, a startled Cogsworth stood. Adam forced his shoulders to relax as he stepped back, giving the majordomo room to come in.
"Si-sire… Are you… Is everything…" The portly man sighed, straightened his waistcoat, and cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is, will you be needing anything further this evening?"
Adam sulked to his desk and sat behind it. His fingers dug into his queued hair, and his forehead rested against his palms. "Not unless you have a tonic to cure this relentless barrage of scrutiny."
After he heard Cogsworth shut his door and step further into the room, a thoughtful silence ensued. "If I had such an elixir to cure body aches and palpitations from interactions with nettling persons, I would possess a lifetime supply," Cogsworth wholeheartedly confessed. "And I am equally as disappointed one does not exist."
Adam lifted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. The smirk slipped, and his eyes connected with Cogsworth's. A level of compassion shone from the deep brown that Adam rarely saw, and it gave him a touch of comfort.
"So how does one tolerate such irritating people without completely losing it? Because I'm telling you, I have about this much wick left." Adam held up his thumb and first finger a millimeter apart.
Cogsworth pointed at him in recognition. "What a coincidence! That is precisely the length of what my wick has been for almost thirty years." His chuckle turned into a sympathetic sigh. "Unfortunately, Master, there is no tried and true method to the madness. It has taken me almost my entire life to cultivate the patience to sustain my own temper, and it is to my dismay that in the several years we were isolated from society, the world of court has not become any less tiresome." With a pensive line between his brows, he gestured to a chair beside Adam's desk. "If I may?" he asked, and Adam consented with a nod.
After taking his seat, Cogsworth continued, "I believe... the difficulty of all of this is that... you were not exposed to it during the most impressionable stages of your life. Much of that is... for the better, in my opinion, but I can understand that it appears to put you at a disadvantage."
Adam shook his head with annoyance. "I just don't get it. Everything that made me worthy of receiving possible eternal damnation is what I'm expected to project now. I don't want to be him. I want to be me: The man Belle helped me become. I was just getting comfortable being this new, better me... but he'd be chewed up and spat out of the lion's den."
A grunt of disgust passed his lips, and Adam pulled at the back of his neck. "And Belle… She's got an even bigger performance to give. She's perfect as she is, and yet, I feel her slipping away a little more each day this charade goes on. Like the layers of armor she's building are burying the real her alive."
Blue eyes searched his servant's and friend's. No one in the castle held propriety in as high regard as his head of household, so if someone could shed light on the necessity of seeing this through, it would be him. "Is this really what we have to do to be together?"
Cogsworth pursed his lips in thought. "I don't necessarily think that mademoiselle is being 'buried alive' in that sense. It is true one must develop a sort of… persona to guard themselves against the prying and judgment men and women of your station must expose themselves to. But if you want to maintain face and a private life, it is absolutely vital. Now… I can see why that might seem impossible, given both your disposition and Mistress Belle's. You're both very forward and honest, and wear your hearts on your sleeves, but that is the very reason why you need to protect yourselves."
Cogsworth rolled his eyes as he spoke, "I know that governess would rather strip you down and build you up in the image of her choosing, but that is the very last thing we expect. We are all quite proud of the man you've become, sire, and would prefer you to not go through yet another transformation, especially not at the hands of a woman like Legacé."
A gruff laugh rumbled in Adam's chest. "Perish the thought. That's something none of you ever need to worry about. For the first time since my parents passed, I not only feel like myself, but I like who I am. I'm not about to let that go. I just need to learn how to be myself under the guise of what's expected. It's harder than we thought. And I need to find a way to see Belle more. This is my castle! I should be able to go for a stroll through the garden with her without it reflecting poorly on us, or have her beside me during a meal... something."
The stress of living under the same roof but unable to spend time with Belle was crushing him. Working through the growing pains of taking up his proper place in the world was hard enough, but doing it alone, without her, was even harder.
He looked up to see Cogsworth grimacing, and Adam deflated. "Despite how much you may want to exert your authority," the majordomo said, "our goal while Legacé and her troupe are here is to ingratiate them just enough to leave them satisfied. One misstep is all they need to report to the King and induce him to forbid you from marrying Mistress Belle." With great pangs, he insisted, "I am sorry, Master, but it is not wise to take that chance. We must all keep up appearances merely for another fortnight. Then we finally can resume some normalcy!"
Though it wasn't what he wanted to hear, Adam knew Cogsworth and the rest of the servants were in the same boat as him, just as they'd always been. Not being able to dictate the goings-on in their own home without dignitaries from Versailles scrutinizing everything they did was not only exhausting but demeaning in its own right. The desire to rebel against it was in every single one of them, even in the most scrupulous, exacting rule-follower in the castle.
With an exaggerated sigh, Adam agreed. "You're right. Of course, you're right." He was about to dismiss Cogsworth when an idea struck him. Adam took a blank sheet and ripped a corner. "Can you do me one favor tonight?"
Cogsworth paused in standing and resumed his seat. "Anything, Your Highness."
Quickly, Adam sketched a heart wrapped in a vine with thorns and a few rose buds. Hopefully she'd understand his meaning. He'd have written her a note but couldn't risk any words of his affection falling into the wrong hands.
"Can you give this to Babette?" He dusted it with pounce, then shook it off and folded the paper. "Make sure she knows to slip it to Belle covertly."
"Erm…" Cogsworth hesitated but resigned to consent with a nod. "In the morning, I shall. I know where I will find her then, and most importantly, she will be unoccupied."
Adam almost snorted at the exasperation on Cogsworth's face. The Englishman absolutely hated walking in on Lumière and Babette tangled in an embrace, and as many times as it had happened, it still visibly irked Cogsworth to no end. Adam tapped his chin and said, "Ah… that's right. I suppose that would be the safest bet. You may do so first thing tomorrow, before Babette attends to Belle's toilette, perhaps?"
He held out the folded page tucked into his palm. Cogsworth stood, and took Adam's hand. With a brief shake, so anyone peering in through the glass panes of the bureau door would see nothing amiss, Adam passed the paper to him.
"Thank you, my friend," Adam whispered, giving Cogsworth a grateful smile, which was returned with a reverent bow.
"You are most welcome," the majordomo replied as he smoothly slipped the paper into his inside coat pocket with a pat. "Keep faith. We shall all get through this together." With a bolstering nod and his hand on the doorknob, he acknowledged, "Good night, sire."
"Bonne nuit."
Dawn finally broke over the horizon, and Belle watched the sunrise from her window. Her lessons were coming more easily to her as the days wore on. She played with more confidence, sang more clearly, and in the last three rounds of piquet, she'd beaten Legacé in a clean sweep. But this didn't mean the older madame was lightening her load. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The more Belle excelled, the harder Legacé worked to trip her up. So as much as she wanted to celebrate her successes, another challenge awaited around the next corner to show her how far she still had to go.
Before Babette arrived, Belle gave herself a pep talk as she started her morning toilette.
I can do this. It's not much longer, and then I'll put my new skills to use and charm every last courtier—just like I've won over Countess Lucille and two of her daughters. Kind words, compassionate heart, and steady calm, just like I've always done. If it worked with Adam, it can work with the King. I'll get in every ounce of practice I can, and one day, Adam and I will look back on this time and laugh.
"Mademoiselle?"
Belle glanced over to find Babette poking her head inside, her brow cocked. "May I come in?"
"Oh, of course!" Belle replied. "Good morning."
"Bonjour," Babette returned, but there was scrutiny in her gaze and a small but perpetual, knowing grin on her lips. "You are… feeling well this morning, oui?"
Belle forced a laugh. "Why, yes… Why wouldn't I?"
"Well…" Babette looked over at her door. "I knocked fairly soundly more than once and did not receive a response." She tilted her head in inquiry. "Is something on your mind?"
A quiver shot through Belle's core, but she managed to restrain it while letting out a sigh. "Always. I have plenty to keep my mind occupied. Mme Legacé sees to that."
Babette chuckled. "Mais oui, my apologies! That was a silly question on my part."
When Babette caught sight of Belle's book on etiquette in the mirror, her eyes widened warily and a snort escaped her. She helped Belle tie her petticoats around her waist, and asked with humor, "How are you enjoying that lovely torture device of a manual?"
A low groan rumbled in her throat, and Belle lifted her arms as Babette fastened her stays. "Still about as pleasant as mucking the stables in the heat of summer. I've read it three times." She took as deep a breath as she could, banishing the disgust from her tone. "But it is as all refined young ladies must adhere to, and I am nothing if not the picture of a refined young lady." She smiled with all the elegance and reform of a fine portrait.
Babette shook her head in empathy. "Oh, ma chère… it is all reminding me so much of my own upbringing. I truly thought I would never have any reason to even look upon that dreaded book again! Believe me, you do not have to pretend in front of me. You have to do so much pretending already. Conserve your energy."
Belle nodded, but her breath became shallow as her chest tightened. As much as she might want to truly be herself, she feared any relaxing of the rules would lead to mishaps when it mattered. It was better if she maintained the veneer at all times, at least while the future was still so uncertain.
She took a seat at the vanity, assuming a neutral expression as she asked, "Is there anything out-of-the-ordinary on today's agenda I should know about? Perhaps that the countess and her brood are finally parting ways with us?" Her eyes glimmered with faint hope as Babette got to work on her hair.
"Well…" Babette grimaced. "Not for another fortnight, at least. There is more: In the servants' quarters, I overheard Legacé's maids speaking of another visitor set to arrive within the week, one who they said would determine with absolute certainty whether or not you are a 'good Catholic lady'." She sighed. "I cannot imagine this is going to become easier for any of us until that dreadful woman leaves."
Belle's heart drummed in her chest and her throat tightened. Papa had never been much of a religious man. But the information wasn't completely a surprise. Adam had sent letters to the Archbishop requesting a chaplain be assigned to the castle chapel, but to her knowledge, he hadn't heard back.
Before she spoke her fear, Belle swallowed and controlled her features. "I'm sure that will be a relief to Adam. He has fond memories of the old chaplain, and he's been hoping for a new one." A question arose, and Babette might be one of the few people who could answer it. "Was Adam's mother a devout Catholic? He has very few memories of her, but some are of her in the chapel."
Babette nodded. "She was, and one that practiced what she believed with all her heart. It was… rather inspiring. Her faith was what helped her be at peace when her health was failing." She met Belle's eye, and in her gaze was a deep sadness that Belle had never seen before. "We all dearly wish you could have met her… and his father. They were kind rulers and good people."
"I wish I had, too. Can you imagine where you all would be now if tragedy had never hardened Adam's heart? There never would have been any of this readjustment, and you wouldn't have lost so many years. None of you, nor Adam, deserved to be treated that way. He needed love and compassion, not punishment."
Babette breathed deeply. "You will not find anyone who would disagree with you, especially those who sought employment elsewhere."
Like the times before, guilt on that very idea squeezed her gut. Belle's eyes wandered the opulent room then met her maid's in the mirror again. "I don't know if I ever said it aloud, but… I am so sorry for all you went through."
"You are the very last person in the world that would need to apologize for what happened to us, but…" Babette offered her an appreciative smile. "Merci."
As she placed pins in Belle's head to hold her updo in place, Babette mused, "I cannot tell you how often we all tried to make sense of why: Why us? Why a curse? Why isolation from the rest of the world? What did we do? What did we not do? What could we have done differently?"
She heaved a heavy sigh and shook her head. "It almost drove me to insanity trying to figure it all out, but none of it mattered. It did not change anything. All we could do was wait, and in that waiting, try to find whatever joy we could… to try not to bicker and fight over petty squabbles, to appreciate each other instead… to work together."
With Belle's hair done, Babette found the girl's watchful gaze and grinned. "I may not necessarily like everyone I was trapped with, but it has made me grateful for them and the life I have now. Even if I had known that… trading my life as a vicomtesse would lead to me becoming cursed, I was cursed with my truest friends and the man I love. It has also taught me to treat every moment we have in this life as a gift, and for that, despite it all… I truly am grateful."
She placed a hand on Belle's shoulder. "It may not feel that way now, but someday, this time in your life will be merely a funny memory. You are the strongest and bravest woman I know. You will conquer whatever that woman tries to throw at you. She will have nothing bad about you to report back to le Roi, he will have to approve of you—because who wouldn't?—and you will marry the Master and rule all of the province with as just, generous, and benevolent of a hand as his parents before him… perhaps even more so."
Belle wanted to believe everything Babette said, but it was becoming harder to maintain her confidence. The criticisms weren't rolling off of her the way they had back in the village. There, she cared little for the opinions of others, because what did it matter if she was strange to them? She wasn't going to abandon her passions to meet their silly expectations. But here, now, it mattered. If she couldn't conform and play the proper part, the future she and Adam dreamt of would cease to be. But she didn't want to make Babette feel that her efforts at lifting her spirits were in vain, so she gave a thankful smile.
"Now," Babette declared with a grin, "although we all have every understanding that you do not have any need nor want for them, it is time for powder and rouge. Viens."
She gestured for Belle to face her and Babette took up the powder puff from the vanity.
"Oh, please no…" The grumble fell past Belle's lips before she could stop it. She hated the face powder, almost as much as the panniers. But she closed her eyes, folded her lips into her mouth, and held her breath.
"Bonne fille," Babette gently commended before dusting the brush and its white powder all over Belle's face. "Fashion comes and goes, but why in twenty years this at the very least has not changed, I will never fully grasp."
Belle coughed and slowly opened her eyes. "Aren't I pale enough as it is?" She laughed, lifting her hand to her face to show how little the powder lightened her skin. "We've been in the castle for so long, any bit of darkening the sun had once graced my skin with has long faded."
Finally put together for the day, Belle stood, with great effort. "And these"—she lifted the paniers—"are ridiculous!" A thought flashed in her head and she winced. "I'm stuck with them… forever, aren't I? Year by year, they will simply grow larger and more preposterous. By the time I'm thirty, I'll never fit through a door head-on again!"
Babette laughed. "Oh, chérie, only women who are trying much too hard to impress may wear the absurdly wide panniers. It will never be a requirement for you. True, they have grown since I was your age, but I cannot imagine that trend lasting. Still, they must seem quite large when you have never had to wear them. I can assure you we will always ensure you keep some practicality in your dress. You will become accustomed to it eventually."
She glanced at the clock on the mantel. "It is almost time, but… to hopefully make the day more endurable…" With a smirk of adorable mischief on her lips, Babette then pulled out a piece of folded parchment from her skirt pocket and offered it to her.
Belle eyed her maid, a corner of her mouth curling in amusement as she took and opened the letter. Inside was a hastily scrawled drawing; one that made her heart squeeze in her chest and her eyes water. He was suffering just as much as she was. Knowing his longing for her was just as deep as hers for him gave her a little boost of energy. They'd weather this storm and come out stronger for it. She just knew it.
Though she appeared to know the answer already, Babette asked, "Is it enough to get you through the day?"
A small smile crested her lips. "I believe it is." Despite there being very little to his message, Belle understood his meaning. Again, the depth of her feelings for him startled her. Just when she couldn't fathom loving him more, the organ in her chest would find a way to beat even harder for him.
With a wistful sigh, Belle tucked the little drawing into her pocket and said, "I love him so much."
Babette's grin widened. "I know you do." As she clasped a simple charm necklace about Belle's neck, she chuckled. "We would not be here if it were otherwise."
Her maid's eyes went to the clock on the mantle and she gave Belle's shoulders a bolstering squeeze. "Now, you know if you are anything less than punctual, Legacé will not let you forget it."
Belle covered her friend's hand in gratitude before she stood, and a deep sigh followed. "Yes, I know. To the lion's den." She plastered on her content smile, smoothed her dress, and slipped on her shoes. "Thank you, Babette, for your companionship and advice. I am so lucky to have you."
A look of wonder appeared on Babette's face, and Belle realized she had never told her maid that, even after several months of being in Belle's service.
Babette's smile widened, full of the utmost sincerity, and she nodded. Her voice was soft as she replied, "I am more than happy to be of service, mademoiselle."
Mid-morning tea service was in full swing, and Adam peeked through the drawing-room door to steal a glimpse at Belle. He still couldn't understand why he wasn't permitted to join. It was just tea after all. But this was "lady's time" and gentlemen were not allowed.
Particularly him.
The way Legacé ensured he and Belle had little to no contact was beyond maddening. But she insisted that until Belle was an official courtier, it was beneath him to spend time with her other than meals… which meant he had to sneak around his own castle to see her.
He felt like a voyeur at times, creeping around corridors, using hidden passageways to spy on Belle during her lessons. If only there was a secret path to the East Wing from the West. But the only connecting passage was from the West to the South Wing—the Master's quarters to the Mistress's—and unfortunately, Belle wasn't the official mistress of the house… yet.
Adam only got a few moments to watch, but he was very pleased with what he saw. Belle was the picture of poise and grace. Her hair was piled high today with cascading ringlets at the nape of her neck. Her dress was a buttery yellow with pink and purple flowers embroidered throughout. If it weren't for her sweet voice, he might not have recognized her.
Over the past several weeks she'd completely transformed from a beautiful but simple peasant girl to a stunning lady. The gowns she wore showcased her lithe figure, and on more than one occasion he'd been taken to task for staring at her too long.
But as good as the current high fashion looked on her, Adam still preferred her in the less formal, unadorned frocks. She didn't need frilly lace or piles of bows to enhance her beauty, and she certainly didn't need powder or rouge. That she so effortlessly adhered to the dictations of Legacé was just further proof of how much she loved him. Her willingness to go through all of this left no doubt in his mind that they could make a marriage last forever.
Lingering longer than he should have, Adam listened in.
"A true lady never allows her tea to chill. She balances polite conversation with sipping her tea in a rhythm that ensures her beverage remains hot. And sit up straight! Proper posture dictates your back never touches the furniture."
Through the slight crack, he watched Belle straighten while taking a petite drink from her cup. A small drip slid down the fine china.
Legacé gasped. "Simpleton!" The old woman's hands flew into the air, and a look more sharp and cutting than Mrs. Potts' most chastising speared Belle.
Adam's anger spiked at the way Legacé's insult made Belle shrank away.
"Lord in heaven, spare my nerves!" Legacé went on. "This child will never be fit for court. You are nothing but an embarrassment! If you show your face, you will bring shame and humiliation to the Prince!"
That was the last straw! Adam's face burned with fury as he gripped the door handle, ready to rip the thick slab off its hinges and throw it at the monster who dared speak to his Belle in such a manner.
A soft hand appeared atop his.
"Don't," Babette whispered, her tone firm and more authoritative than she'd ever used on him.
He gritted his teeth as Babette pushed his hand off the door and he struggled to keep his tone low. "Why? Why shouldn't I?"
A dark brow rose ever so slightly, challenging him. "Do you trust her?"
Knowing who Babette meant, but not caring, Adam snapped, "No. I don't trust that evil hag for a moment."
The maid scoffed and shook her head. "Your Highness…"
Adam's head fell, a sigh accompanying the action. "Yes. Of course, I trust her."
A slim finger lifted his chin, a motherly affection in her blue eyes. "Then watch… quietly."
He returned to his observation.
Belle spoke clearly but kindly, "That would be impossible. I do not claim to perform perfectly, but that is why I have you, to help me learn and improve upon these skills. Your tutelage is more than I could have hoped for, and I appreciate your thorough and unyielding ways. I am certain that thanks to your dedication to correcting every error I make, I will be more than prepared for court when the time comes. After being in your care, how could I possibly fail?" She said it all with a smile, and Adam couldn't have loved her more.
Longing tightened his chest. He wanted to walk in and sit beside her, hold her hand, and show her how proud he was… but he couldn't, despite every fiber of his being needing to be near her.
"She's amazing," he whispered in awe.
"Oui. Mademoiselle is incredible," Babette agreed.
They stood outside the parlor for a few moments, both pleased with the silent shock Legacé displayed.
The tea cups were placed back on the tray, and a clatter of china signaled the end of tea time. The ladies then rose to their feet. The countess went first, followed by her daughters and Legacé. Belle was the last to stand, and she took a moment to fluff out her skirts.
"What are you doing?" Legacé snapped, her stern glare of disapproval sending a chill down Adam's spine, and he could only imagine how Belle felt.
Belle's head bowed, and her hands fell to the center, clasping over one another. "Sorry, Madame," she said meekly, the fire and sass from earlier overshadowed by a cloud of shame.
Adam took a step towards the door and Babette's hand stopped him again.
"Sire, they will be coming out in a moment. You should go," Babette gently suggested.
He didn't want to, but he knew she was right.
His shoulders slumped, and he took one last long look at the woman he loved. "Alright. But tell her…" The women within approached the door, and Adam didn't get the chance to finish his thought.
Before he rushed off, Babette gave him a knowing grin. "I will, Master. I promise."
Days turned into a week and the charade continued. When he could, Adam peeked in on Belle to see how she was fairing. The endless trials she was put through seemed to be going well. But Adam never had any doubt that she'd be able to learn it all quickly. He'd never met a woman with such vast intelligence, both in mind and empathy.
The little moments where he could show her his support were fleeting and not enough, but they had to focus on the finish line. The work on his desk kept piling higher and higher, making the days go by faster. He had so much to catch up on, while also implementing the changes he wanted.
Catching up on the political climate in the capital versus out here in the country was challenging. It was vastly different, and something he'd never been exposed to before. His parents never involved him in those matters; he'd been too young. Now here he was, learning centuries of history between France and its neighbors, between the old families and newer ones domestically, and how all of it wove into a complicated tapestry that made up court.
Then there were the duties his position had neglected since his father passed: collecting taxes from the surrounding villages, aiding in the agricultural endeavors, restarting the charitable organizations his parents sponsored, meeting with town representatives, and finding out what he could do to make them prosperous again, to name a few. But he was juggling it all beautifully, according to Cogsworth.
To help keep everything organized and running smoothly, Adam had promoted LePlume to his secretary. The man was very good at keeping Adam on task, and keeping his to-do list prioritized properly.
Webster continued adding to the subjects he needed to master, and every night before bed, Adam would sit reading in the chair in his chambers. He wondered if Belle was doing the same on the other side of the castle. It gave him some comfort to think they were working towards their goal together, even if they couldn't physically be beside one another.
Adam sat at his desk when a very official-looking letter arrived addressed to Madame Constance Legacé. At once, he called her to his bureau, insisting she come immediately.
LePlume opened the door for her. She gave her typical deep curtsy, and Adam nodded his acceptance of her show of respect. "You summoned me, Your Highness?"
Finding the balance between princely poise and polite pleasantness was a daily struggle. And his title in particular was something that had taken him weeks to grow accustomed to. Each time he waved away the formal gesture, Legacé would scold him, reminding him that he needed to accept and acknowledge his superior rank. At court, he'd be fighting for position among the King's advisors, and he needed to use his relation and title to command respect at all times. It was that very mindset that had gotten him cursed, and slipping into old habits of superiority and entitlement was something he had to work at avoiding.
Adam stood and held out the tray her correspondence sat on. "You have a letter, and it looks rather important."
Legacé stepped forward and curiously took the offered item. Without hesitation, she ripped it open. Adam watched her eyes scan the parchment, nothing in her face indicating as to its contents. When she finished, she folded the paper and stuffed it into her dress pocket.
When she said nothing, Adam prompted, "And?"
Her hands clasped one another in front of her and she met Adam's eyes. "My time here has ended. I am needed elsewhere."
Relief relaxed Adam's shoulders, and it took all his willpower to keep the smile from his lips. For Belle's sake, he asked, "And do you feel you have accomplished what you set out to do? Is Mlle Beaumont ready to be received at court?"
A slow breath eased out of the older woman. "She has proven to be an astute student that absorbs information at an impressive rate. Do I believe she will fare well in Versailles? No. I do not. She is still far too loose with her tongue and eager with her friendship. But could she pass as a respectable lady if she kept her lips buttoned? Yes. I believe I have imparted enough etiquette for her to go unnoticed if she adheres to the acceptable topics of conversation and does not stray."
Adam wanted to shout huzzah, but he maintained his composure, only allowing the slightest of smiles through. "Your assistance has been most fortunate. I thank you for your time and dedication." He knew he should say something to the effect of her presence being missed, but he refused to flat-out lie. "Please inform Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts of your departure. I am sure they will be most eager to assist you in any way they can."
Legacé nodded, then turned to leave. Before she walked through the doors, she stopped and turned to look at him. "Your Highness, if I may, you have made a remarkable recovery from your confinement. Having lived so detached from the life you should have lived, you are catching up most impressively."
Adam smiled. "Thank you."
He expected that was all, but to his surprise, her face softened for the first time, and she continued, "I met your father a few times. He was highly respected and admired. You remind me of him. I wish you the best of luck. That girl will never conform to all that is expected of your station, but… it is not my place to say. Rest assured, I will not interfere, for she's done enough to grant her my reluctant approval."
Moisture gathered in Adam's eyes, and he blinked them back. With a hard swallow, he cleared his clogged throat. "I appreciate that, madame. I hope you find peace and happiness in your future endeavors. Everyone deserves that."
"They do not, but it is kind of you to say. Au revoir, Votre Altesse."
"Bonne journée, madame." Adam tipped his head, and Legacé gave a parting curtsey.
When the door clicked closed, Adam sank into his chair. Every inch of his body breathed a sigh of relief and a good portion of his tension melted away. By tomorrow morning, the source of their stress would depart, and they could go back to spending time together! Adam couldn't wait.
With a wave, Belle and Adam watched the coach depart, carrying with it all who didn't belong at the château. Once it was out of sight, and the staff dispersed, Adam took Belle's hand and pulled her up the stairs. They were steps away from the library—their first private moment in months!—when LePlume appeared out of nowhere.
"Par-pardon me, si-sire, but this can't w-w-wait." The secretary's voice shuddered and he kept his hands behind his back and his eyes on the carpet.
Adam restrained a growl of frustration. Through gritted teeth, he replied, "One moment, LePlume." Turning back to Belle, he brought her hands to his lips, placing a kiss across her knuckles. "Wait for me here. I'll dispense with whatever this is in ten—fifteen minutes at most."
LePlume cringed, and Adam sighed. "Thirty minutes, then."
His secretary shook his head slightly, and Adam deflated. He clenched his jaw and asked, "Longer?"
"I'm afraid so, Your Highness. I am so sorry," LePlume took a step back, regret and concern on his thin face.
Belle brought her hand to Adam's cheek, then went on tiptoe to kiss the other side. "It's all right. We have all the time in the world now. If you can't get away before dinner, I'll just see you then."
He didn't deserve her, or her understanding, but he was grateful for it. "Thank you. I'll do everything I can to come to you before then. I promise."
Her smile eased the disappointment he felt, and before he walked away, he bent his head and stole a very small kiss. "You're amazing."
She gave him a grin, then shooed him away. "Go!"
With reluctance, he left with LePlume in tow. As they made their way to his bureau, Adam stewed. He should have asked what was so important as to take him away from Belle when he finally had her to himself, but he knew LePlume well enough by now to know the matter had to be very urgent.
Arriving at his office, two middle-aged men sat in the chairs before his desk, dressed in worn britches and jackets that appeared to be at least a few decades old. They stood as soon as he entered, removing their dusty hats and bowing their heads.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," they spoke in unison.
One wrung his hat, while the other's shoulders looked so tense it caused Adam's to contract. Whatever they were here for, it didn't look like good news.
"Gentlemen, you may resume your seats," came Adam's smooth reply as he took his place behind the desk. With a calm façade, he asked, "What can I do for you?"
Many thanks to my co-writer CarolyNJoy! If you haven't checked out her incredible works, go do so! CarolNJoy and I would like to thank the best beta team in the world, the amazing folks on the Discord Server The Enchanted Rose. Without your wonderful insight and feedback this wouldn't be half as good as it is.
Chapter 4 is in progress! Be sure to follow for the latest updates. And as always, we adore your feedback!
