a Disney's Beauty and and Beast Fanfic
by
C. "Sparky" Read
Part IX:
"The Town Crier's Gonna Have a Field Day"
You can well imagine the reaction garnered when Gaston made the announcement that he - and his new wife - were leaving Danvers. The party guests sort of stood there silently, their plates and mugs held before them gingerly as if they had suddenly become red-hot. Doctor and Madame Lecroix practically clung to one another in shock and surprise, and LeFou actually forgot that he had the ale keg's tap open; there was quite a puddle before he realised and shut it off.
But Jessamyn wouldn't remain stupefied for long. "Gaston, you big idiot!" she barked, actually stamping a foot in anger. "What the hell is the matter with you? You can't leave! You'll be arrested - or hanged," she added as an afterthought. "What a hell of a thing to say to everyone, after everything."
"Jessamyn," warned her mother icily. "Watch your tongue."
Gaston scowled at his sister-in-law. "I'll say what I like," he informed her brassily. "And I meant what I said: Emeline and I are moving to Molyneaux. The Prince can hang himself, for all I care."
Cecil stepped forward. "Gaston, this is more serious than you seem to know," he said. "You may well be hanged for your crimes."
"What crimes?" Gaston shot back, removing his arm from Emeline's waist. "I was only hunting a Beast, nothing more. Everyone knows that."
"You also imprisoned the Princess and tried to have her father put away - "
"She wasn't a Princess then," Gaston interrupted the older man. "She was just a cheap - "
LeFou tactfully interrupted before Gaston could slander yet another important person. "Gaston," he said uneasily, "what happened to this morning? You told me yourself you could never leave Danvers. What changed your mind?"
Gaston hesitated, stealing a glance at Emeline, who as usual offered no comment. "I'm married now," he responded shortly.
"Which is why you should stay!" Jess spoke up. "It wouldn't be very responsible of you to make a widow of my sister the very first month!"
"Jessamyn, that's enough," Madame frowned. "No more of that sort of talk."
"She could be right." It was Fedore, who was not known for making speeches. He turned to Gaston. "Gaston, you are my friend," he began. "I like you - we all like you." He glanced around at the guests, who murmured agreement. "And we want you to stay here. The Prince need never know you are even still alive. And we - all of us, the men I mean - we were to begin work on a new house for you and Emeline tomorrow."
Gaston was surprised; he hadn't expected that. He took a few steps forward and laid a hand on Fedore's shoulder, his expression softening. "You are all my friends," he said sincerely, looking around. "And I thank you. For all you've done for me. But…" He took his hand from Fedore's shoulder and squared his jaw. "I already have a house. In Molyneaux. A big, fine house full of my possessions that I earned myself. Why should I have to beg and borrow for the rest of my life when I am already a rich man? It would be responsible of me - " he shot a glance at Jessamyn - "to provide for my new wife as best I can. And I can do that by moving back to Molyneaux to resume my life."
LeFou shuffled forward nervously. "But Gaston," he argued, "you lost your life when you were proclaimed dead."
That stopped Gaston short. He turned to LeFou, his eyes hard. "What are you saying?" he demanded. "Does someone else own my house now? My things?"
"Well…sort of…"
"Who is it? Tell me."
LeFou fidgeted. "Um…me?"
Gaston blinked. Then he relaxed. "Is that all?" He chuckled. "You really had me going, there."
LeFou sighed. Now more than ever he was glad he had never sold the house or its contents. "It isn't just the house or the stuff," he said. "It's…" He trailed off as everyone, especially Gaston, looked at him in anticipation. "I just hope you don't expect to be able to just waltz back into town as if nothing ever happened," he said at last. "Things have changed, Gaston. You'll have to change too, if you ever want to go back."
Gaston narrowed his eyes in anger. He thumped his crutch on the floor. "Isn't this enough of a change for you?" he snapped.
"No," LeFou told him evenly, although inside he cringed.
Caspar coughed exaggeratedly. "Boy, is it ever late," he said loudly, setting down his plate and mug and heading for the door. He coughed again.
The message was loud and clear. With a few hasty goodnights, the guests filed out of the house, leaving only LeFou and the Lecroixes behind with the newlyweds. When they were all gone, Doctor Lecroix turned to Gaston.
"Son," he said, "I want both you and Em to think long and hard about your decision. I'm not saying that it's wrong; you make a good argument. I want you to know that I trust your judgment, otherwise I wouldn't have given you my daughter's hand in marriage. But perhaps this deserves further debate. We'll resume this discussion tomorrow. Goodnight." He herded Madame and Jessamyn out the door.
LeFou lingered for a moment, trying to catch Gaston's eye, but the other wouldn't meet his gaze. Finally he followed his hosts back to Cecil's house.
In the end, of course, Gaston stubbornly clung to his decision to leave, telling everyone he would rather take his chances with the Prince's men and regain the dignity of his old life than "hide like a rabbit" on the edge of the Principality, living off the goodwill of others. LeFou had to fess up at last about the depleted state of Gaston' bank account, and offered to share the contents of his own account as well as the proceeds of his business with Gaston, even to make him a partner if he wished. Surprisingly, Gaston was not angry at the news that LeFou had spent his money, but expressed interest in reopening the tavern, at which LeFou gave only a vague reply. LeFou was none too keen on turning his home back into a pub now that he had gotten it all to himself again, but he decided to keep an open mind about it. Give it some time, he thought. Maybe it could work after all.
Jessamyn was to come along as well, and it was Gaston who had requested that she do so. "The girl deserves more than gutting fish every day for the rest of her life," was his reasoning. No one could argue with that, and Doctor and Madame Lecroix were content to see both their daughters off to bigger and better things.
The day of departure, nearly a week later, became a sort of unofficial holiday as everyone set aside their work and turned out to see off the four travelers. Many gifts, both token and useful, were given to the new couple; and even Jessamyn and LeFou received a few items. The Lecroix family wagon, Gaston's and Emeline's to keep, was getting rather full by the time the last goodbyes were said.
"Come back for Christmas, dear," said Madame mistily as she fussed over Gaston, straightening his collar, his hair, anything she could. Gaston stood and took it uncomplainingly, even when she licked her thumb and wiped a nonexistent smudge off his face. "We will, Ma," he assured her, taking her hands and giving her a kiss. "As long as we don't have to bring Jess." He jumped a little as the aforementioned happened by, overheard, and gave him a sharp pinch on the side.
The doctor stepped up. "Good journey, Son," he said, shaking Gaston's hand. "Keep my girls safe."
"I will."
Cecil and Fedore were next. "You be careful out there, boy," Cecil said sternly.
Gaston nodded wisely. "I always have been," he replied. "Thanks again for hauling my shattered bones out of that river," he added flippantly.
"Anytime," from Fedore.
The wagon loaded, LeFou climbed up into Omri's saddle, and Gaston mounted Stella. Emeline and Jessamyn were to drive the wagon.
"Goodbye, dear," Madame told LeFou, patting his foot. "Come back to visit us sometime. And," she added, lowering her voice, "try and keep that friend of yours out of trouble."
It was a little like asking someone to try and keep an elephant from charging, but LeFou agreed anyways.
At last they were underway. LeFou took the lead, and Jess spurred Gemma, the dappled mare hitched to the wagon, after him. Gaston walked Stella slowly after the wagon, extending his goodbyes as he waved and called to all the villagers who had gathered to see him off. He was relieved to finally be leaving, but it wouldn't be truthful to say he wasn't apprehensive.
"Yes, I see. Er…which one is Chloe, again?"
"She's the one who likes goose liver, looking at stars, and polkas." At Gaston's blank look LeFou amended, "The red one."
"Ah." Gaston had been quite interested when LeFou had begun to recount to him how he'd been courting the Fourreur triplets, but all at once he drew Stella to a halt; and in response LeFou did the same with Omri.
Gaston stared down the path. "We're almost there," he announced.
The trip from Danvers to Molyneaux, while normally a five-or-six day journey, had only taken them four (or thereabouts, it was now just past dawn on the fifth day). This was due to Gaston's impatience, and he had driven them all a bit hard. Part of his hurry lay in the fact that he didn't want to run into anyone on the way, and as luck would have it, they hadn't exactly (they had passed one family in a mule-pulled wagon, but it was after dark, and there had been no hint of recognition). And now they were very close to town. Jessamyn stopped the wagon just behind the two men.
"All right," said LeFou. "We'll just ride into town slowly, and that way - "
Stella reared suddenly as Gaston jabbed his heels into her flanks, and then she tore down the path towards town. "Doing things slowly takes too much time!" shouted Gaston over his shoulder as he and the black mare disappeared from sight around a bend.
LeFou gaped after him. "Darnit Gaston!" he cried in frustration. Already he had broken his promise to Madame Lecroix. With a worried glance over his shoulder at the sisters, he hurried Omri after Stella.
Madame Boulanger received a nasty shock when she looked up from arranging baguettes in her basket to spot the late Gaston, astride his black mare, riding boldly right into the misty town square. She dropped her basket and stared.
Gaston wasn't one to waste a good dramatic moment. Yanking on Stella's reins, he caused her to rear magnificently once again, and as she came back down he addressed the baker's wife:
"Good morning, Madame."
At that Madame Boulanger raised a shaking finger and pointed at Gaston, following up with a shrill scream. And then she crumpled like a sack of millet.
The scream did wonders to draw curious heads out of windows all around the square. Shouts of "My God, it's Gaston!" was sufficient to cause dozens of people, many still in their nightclothes, to come stumbling out into the street to gape in awe.
Gaston rode Stella in a slow circle around the fountain, grinning magnanimously at everyone. Even if he wound up arrested, he knew this scene would have been worth it.
Denis, who had been up well before dawn working on horseshoes, was the first to step forward. "Gaston," he breathed, eyes wide. "It couldn't be you."
"It's a phantom," cried Hermes' wife, wringing her skirts. "A phantom come to haunt us!"
"Nonsense, my good woman," replied Gaston grandly, holding up a hand. "It is merely I, returning to you at last."
The Fourreur triplets, all in their nightdresses, clung to one another in rising ecstasy. "It's a miracle!" exclaimed Pamela.
Gaston brought Stella close to them. "Isn't it, though?" he beamed, and they all but collapsed in a swoon.
Bertram, who was fanning his wife absently with a hand, was the first to spot LeFou enter the town square on foot. "It's LeFou!" he exclaimed, pointing. "LeFou brought Gaston back!"
Gaston blinked in surprise, powerless as the focus of the townspeople suddenly shifted to the other man.
"How'd you do it, LeFou?"
"Where'd you find him?"
More than a little peeved, Gaston opened his mouth to inform everyone that he didn't need anyone to "bring him back" when a loud, commanding voice said:
"You! How dare you return here!"
It was Prince Christophe, striding into the square from the direction of the bookstore. And he was furious.
Christophe had ridden into Molyneaux early to pick up a gift for Belle before she woke: a book he had asked Monsieur Ockley to order for him, because he had heard that Belle was interested in obtaining a copy of it. Of course he could have gotten a copy anywhere, even directly from the author if he so chose; but he enjoyed giving Belle's old friend his business because it made him feel generous.
But he felt less than generous as he stormed right up to Gaston, who was still mounted on Stella. Four guards, who had accompanied the Prince to the village, fell into step behind him.
"Dismount at once," said one of the guards sternly, "and kneel before your Prince."
Gaston and Christophe looked one another in the eye as if each were trying to stare the other down. As the guard started to repeat his request, Gaston interrupted loudly: "I cannot."
The villagers gasped. Gaston had defied the Prince!
Christophe handed his book to one of the guards and turned back to Gaston, hands behind his back. His expression was neutral. "Cannot?" he repeated. "Or will not?"
More silence as the two men continued to stare at one another. At last Gaston dismounted - to Stella's right instead of left, which was odd - and seemed to bounce once on his right leg before pulling his crutch from its sling and tucking it under his left arm. In the same tone as before, he reiterated, "Can not."
This was almost too much for the crowd to swallow. The great, legendary Gaston was crippled. The Fourreur triplets each emitted a squeaky sort of squeal before sliding to sit on the ground, leaning on each other.
Christophe barely glanced at the crutch, although he did acknowledge it. "Very well," he acquiesced, thinking himself very accommodating indeed. "Then you will bow."
Gaston kept his icy blue eyes on Christophe's face, at first refusing to look away, like one predator challenging another. But then out of a corner of his eye he spotted Emeline squeeze her way through the crowd, and he knew he was defeated. He had to do whatever he could to avoid going to gaol - or something worse. And so, lowering his eyes, he bowed humbly.
It was what Christophe had wanted, but he still wasn't satisfied. Even a year after the event he had no problem recalling images of this man coming at him with weapons drawn, willing to do what ever cold-blooded thing he had to just to have Belle - My Belle! thought the Prince - all to himself. It had been easy to forgive Gaston when he thought the other was dead.
Christophe leaned forward imperceptibly. "I could have you put to death," he said, realising a split second later that he said "could" when what he had meant to say was "should". Gaston looked up at him sharply, still in mid-bow, and the Prince was pleased to see a twinge of anxiety in the other man's eyes.
Suddenly someone was on the ground at the Prince's feet. It was a beautiful blonde woman that Christophe had never seen before.
"Please, Your Highness," she said, her clear green eyes upturned. "I beg you to have mercy."
Gaston straightened up, staring at Emeline in horror. He sought out Jessamyn and LeFou and found them standing side by side not far away. "Get her out of here!" he hissed with a gesture, and, with a glance at each other, they hurried forward and took Emeline by her arms.
"Wait," said Christophe, raising a hand, and Jess and LeFou froze obediently. The Prince held out his other hand, and Emeline took it, rising to her feet.
"Who are you to this man?" he asked her.
Emeline lowered her eyes deferentially, and sank into a curtsy. "I am his wife," she replied.
The Fourreur triplets squeaked again, and this time fell senseless.
Christophe gazed at her, then over at Gaston. "His wife?" he repeated slowly. Gaston looked away, frustrated. He hadn't meant for Emeline - or anyone else - to come to his rescue.
"Pray, what is your name, fair lady?" Christophe had turned his attention back to the woman.
"Emeline," replied the other, and the Prince kissed her hand.
"I am honoured to meet one so brave," he said, bowing. "And forgive me for frightening you; I will not have your husband put to death. Although," he went on sternly, looking over at Gaston once more, "I will order now him to never again approach either myself or the Princess as long as he shall live, or until such time as I say otherwise."
Gaston acknowledged the decree with another bow. "As you wish," he replied hollowly.
Christophe released Emeline's hand, and she took a step backwards before turning and standing next to her husband. Gaston put an arm about her as if she needed protecting, and shot Christophe a challenging look, which the Prince did not, this time, return.
"I bid you all a good day," Christophe excused himself, and led his guards out of the town square to fetch their horses.
When the Prince was gone LeFou and Jessamyn scurried up to Gaston and Emeline. "There, you almost gave us heart attacks, you happy now?" snapped Jess, trembling a little. Without a word, Gaston put his free arm around her, and she pressed close to him.
"Gaston," said Nicodeus quietly, approaching the group cautiously, "are you really here to stay?"
Gaston squeezed his wife and sister-in-law briefly, and exchanged a look with LeFou. "I am," he said. "This town is my home, isn't it?"
Nicodeus smiled. "Sure it is, Gaston," he agreed.
"Well then." Gaston disengaged himself from the women and took a step or two forward. "Who wants the honour of helping me move back into my house?" he addressed the village men with a jaunty air, indicating the wagon with a sweep of his arm.
Suffice to say there was no lack of volunteers.