This is for all the people who have noticed I haven't updated in a few millennia and sent me on a guilt trip. So, here we go with chapter four. And, at the suggestion of a wonderful reviewer, I'd like to note that the names Leroux and Moncharmin are blatantly stolen from Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera. But I believe everything else is my own imagination.
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Chapter 4 – Second Impressions
Lizzie woke up the next morning with a splitting headache from all the crying she had done the night before. She sat up, massaging her temples and went to pour cold water on her face.
"Well," she said softly, rubbing her face with a soft white cloth. "This is going to be one interesting day."
A soft knock interrupted her morning preparations.
"Come in," she said, sitting down on the couch.
"I thought you might like a bit of breakfast," said the walking teapot that suddenly entered, followed by a silver tray with carved legs that was laden with all kinds of breakfast foods, from porridge to bacon.
"A bit?" she thought to herself.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. She had actually been wondering about breakfast, a sentiment echoed by her rumbling stomach. The silver tray floated obligingly onto the table before settling down and the teapot hopped up to join it.
"Thank you," she repeated, taking a piece of toast and marmalade.
"Not a problem at all, dearie," said the teapot.
"Umm, what should I call you?" she asked the teapot nervously. She was hoping it wasn't something such as Madam Teapot. She would never be able to say that with a straight face.
"Oh, how silly of me," said the teapot. "My name is Mrs. Potts." Lizzie groaned inside. This was almost as bad. "Your serving maid's name is Argent," Mrs. Potts continued. Well, that was an improvement. Lizzie was expecting something along the lines of S. Tray.
Argent bobbed a curtsey as best as she could without spilling the tea. Lizzie tried to remember how to nod graciously and, to her credit, she had not forgotten her studies in etiquette quite so much as to insult a servant in someone else's home.
Mrs. Potts curtsied as best as she was able one last time before leaving. Argent followed a few minutes later, bearing the remains of Elizabeth's breakfast.
"Well, that was informative," said Lizzie, rising to her feet. "I could almost get used to these animate objects."
"Could you really?" asked the wardrobe eagerly.
"Perhaps not yet," Elizabeth conceded with a smile. "And what is your name, madam?" she asked the wardrobe courteously.
"Madam Taylor," she answered and Lizzie looked momentarily heavenwards.
"May I glance inside you?" Elizabeth continued.
"Certainly, Mistress," Madam Taylor replied, opening herself up for Lizzie's scrutiny. "May I suggest that you wear the blue one?" she said sweetly.
You may, Lizzie though to herself. But I don't have to listen.
In the end, Lizzie did wind up wearing the blue dress, along with all the jewels that went along with it.
"I haven't worn so much jewelry in quite a few years," she murmured. "In fact, I haven't worn jewelry in a quite a few years. It's going to be fun to pretend to be a princess again."
"You look lovely, child," said Madam Taylor approvingly.
"Thank you," said Lizzie, smiling as she left her suite. Let's see what Joshua had to say about her now.
She stopped short. Where had that thought come from? Why did it matter what he thought of her. He was insignificant!
And after that reassuring reminder, she swept down the stairs.
"Good morning," said the Beast gruffly from the bottom of the stairs. Lizzie nodded.
"Good morning," she replied, nodding to both the Beast and the young woman next to him who Elizabeth presumed must be Belle.
"I trust you slept well?" the Beast continued.
"Very well, thank you," Lizzie answered, unable to keep her gaze from darting around the room to look at the servants scurrying all over.
"By all means," said Belle with a smile, "Do look around."
Lizzie smiled sheepishly.
"There will be time for that later," she replied. "In the meantime, I would like to know more about why I am here."
"Of course you would," came a voice from behind the Beast. Joshua stepped out of his brother-in-law's shadow and bowed courteously to everyone in the room.
"Joshua," Belle snapped. "Haven't I told you to use the door to enter the room? Especially when there are guests."
Joshua shrugged like a petulant child. Lizzie bit back the smile that was threatening to show itself on her face.
"Oh, go ahead," Joshua muttered, turning to her. "I know you're laughing at me."
"I would never do such a thing," Lizzie replied with as straight of a face as she could manage. Belle smiled at her, before turning back to her brother.
"Have you learned anything new about Rose?" she asked him.
"Not really," he answered. "As I've said before, I can tell that she's been kidnapped by someone with great malice toward you and Papa, but I do not know who."
Joshua did not like lying to them, but he dared not tell them his suspicions about Rose's kidnapping. Not until he had more to go on. And Lizzie seemed to be his key.
"Do you know which way her kidnappers went?" Lizzie asked softly.
"No," the Beast answered bitterly. "We have no idea. My people and I scoured the countryside for over a week, but there was no trace of anyone."
"It's obviously someone with a lot of magic or a lot of money," added Joshua. "He is capable of reversing the spell on the castle, which either requires a great deal of power or a great deal of gold to hire the power."
"But who with so much power or money would be interested in my daughter?" Belle whispered. The Beast slipped his arm gently around her.
"There must be a clue," Lizzie hissed.
"Lizzie, my dear," said Joshua with a smile. "Rome wasn't built in a day. And this puzzle will not be solved by sitting here wracking our brains alone. We're going to need some more leads than that. Which is where you come in."
"Me?" Lizzie squeaked. "But how?"
"You have been less than three years out of the upper echelons of society. Odds are than anyone with the magic or money to curse a castle has been high on the rungs of society for a long time. Together, we can work to try and pinpoint the men or woman most likely responsible for this atrocity."
Lizzie smiled as she saw Joshua's reasoning unfold.
"When do we begin?" she asked.
"How does now sound?" Joshua answered, pulling a chair out from the table for her to sit at.
"Thank you, M'Lord," she said by rote as his actions dredged up the memory of society.
Joshua froze and fixed Lizzie with a frightening glare from his flashing green eyes, half hidden by the golden mask.
"Don't you ever call me M'Lord," he spat, his eyes glowing almost supernaturally.
Lizzie nodded, her breath caught in her throat.
"Josh!" Belle snapped at him. "Behave yourself!"
He looked away from Lizzie to gaze, bleary eyed, at Belle.
"You would never understand," he said coldly, before turning back to Lizzie.
"I apologize, Elizabeth," he said formally. "I should not have reacted like that and I humbly beg your forgiveness."
"And I am happy to forgive you," she answered. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. She shivered as he brushed a light kiss over her skin, before dropping her hand and looking back up at her.
"Now, shall we begin?" he asked courteously.
Lizzie nodded, but she noticed a certain distance in his manner and she was very curious as to why that title was so noxious to him.
Joshua sighed and rubbed his temples. Lizzie couldn't know who that name made him think of, but the nightmares were there and would always be. But there would be time for such reminiscence later. He had a job to do.
After a few hours, Lizzie was more than ready to take a break. Analyzing the lords with Joshua was no easy feat and the sensation that they were getting nowhere was not helping any optimistic ambience that may have survived.
"Well," Joshua shrugged, breaking the exhausted silence that
had fallen on the pair, "At least we have a good idea who it's not."
Lizzie laughed shortly, seeing the crooked grin beneath his mask.
"Let's go to dinner," he said, offering her his hand. She took it and followed his lead to the dining room.
"Can I ask a rather personal question?" Lizzie asked as they strolled slowly down the hall.
"That depends on the question," he answered.
"Why were you so upset when I called you-"
"M'Lord?" he finished wearily for her. "I suppose I owe you an explanation."
I suppose you do, Lizzie thought to herself.
"However, I don't think I can explain it fully. Suffice to say that someone rather important from my past that I hated with a passion was referred to as M'Lord."
"I'm sorry," Lizzie murmured, watching his eyes roam the walls.
"It's inconsequential," Joshua replied brusquely. Lizzie looked at him from underneath arched eyebrows.
"Alright," he conceded. "Maybe it is still a sore point."
She smiled and laughed. He pushed open the door to the dining hall and bowed her in. Lizzie walked in regally, noticing a new person sitting at the table. He was a man of at least fifty with a shock of white hair fringing a bald head. He was short, round and uncommonly reminiscent of a hard-boiled egg. A pair of kindly brown eyes peered at her and she couldn't help but smile back at the friendly, grandfatherly figure.
"Hello," he said with a wide grin. "I'm Maurice, Belle's father. You must be Elizabeth." He rose rather ungracefully to his feet and Lizzie tried not to smile as he bowed. She curtsied back.
Joshua followed her in and she saw Maurice's countenance darken.
"Good evening, father," Joshua said to him. He nodded shortly in reply.
"We're currently in the middle of a large family feud," Joshua whispered as he led Lizzie to her seat. "Just try to ignore it."
Lizzie sat down and watched as the magnificent dinner was served. It was easy to forget about the tragedy that had struck this family, and, throughout dinner and the game of chess between the Beast and Joshua that came next, Lizzie found herself oddly content with her new life.
It was only when she was walking to bed that she remembered her own family and their little cottage at the edge of town. She ran into her rooms, fighting tears.
"Elizabeth?" came a low voice that accompanied a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Lizzie sniffled.
"It's Belle," said the mistress of the house as she walked in and sat on the bed next to Lizzie.
"I thought you might be having a hard time sleeping, so I brought you some tea to help you relax."
"Thank you," Lizzie said, sipping the hot milky tea gratefully.
"No, thank you," Belle replied. "I know how hard it is to leave your loved ones behind and come to an unfamiliar place. And, from the bottom of my heart, I'd like to express my gratitude for the help you're giving me."
"I've done nothing so far," Lizzie pointed out bitterly.
"I have faith in you," Belle replied. "After all, anyone who can spend five hours a day on speaking terms with my younger brother must have an extraordinary magical gift."
Lizzie smiled through her tears.
"He's really not so bad," she said.
"Until you get to know him," Belle added darkly. Lizzie laughed and set the empty tea cup down on the tray.
"Sleep well," said Belle, motioning for the tray to follow her out of the room. As soon as they were gone, Lizzie lay down on the bed and fell promptly to sleep.