Chapter Four

As time went on, I became more and more adept at playing chess. I remembered all of the tricks Sir Foxwood had played on me and used them whenever we played again. This last game had ended in a stalemate, which, true enough, was not a win, but it was not a loss either. Maybe I would win next time. Closing the door behind me as I entered the darkness of our room, I thought Lindy was asleep, but she was very obviously awake once she opened her mouth.

"Hello Belle."

I jumped and my head whipped around to see who it was that had spoken.

"Oh! Lindy...you startled me," I laughed nervously.

She hopped down from the top bed. "You've been staying upstairs really late and coming back at odd hours. It woke me up the last time you did it..."

"I'm sorry, Lindy."

"...What have you been doing?" she eyed me warily. "Belle, I don't want to tell on you if you've been sneaking out, but if Foxwood finds out I'll lose my job too because I knew about it and said nothing. Tell me you're not sneaking out."

"I'm not sneaking out."

"I'm serious, Belle!"

"I am too. I'm not sneaking out, and Sir Foxwood knows. He's been teaching me how to play chess."

"Sir Foxwood is teaching you how to play a game?" Lindy asked suspiciously.

"Lindy, I'm telling you the truth, I wouldn't lie...you're my friend, you've got to believe me."

"I believe you...I'm just...why is he teaching you to play chess?"

"What's wrong with me?" I asked sharply.

"It's just..."

"Well, what is it?"

"We're all servants and he's of noble blood...why would he seek leisure with any of us?" she asked softly. "In the eyes of the world, none of us are good enough to share the same air as them."

"That's ridiculous," I said. I knew it was true though. There had been countless times when the Queen had ordered me to stand in the corner rather than sit close to her and Christelle. There had been countless times when I had been ordered to do all of my chores at night so that no one of rank would catch sight of me.

"It's the truth," Lindy shook her head. "Why is he spending his time with you?"

"I...I don't know," I admitted. "I don't really know."

Lindy looked at me sympathetically and put a hand to my shoulder. "We always have to remember our place. We were born to rags, this is who we are."

"I'm not rags," I cried. "I may not be noble, but I'm not rags! I can't believe that."

Lindy just stared at me before climbing back up to her bed. "Sorry," she said softly. It was not a true apology, for she hadn't done or said anything to sorry for. Lindy was sorry that she had spoken the hard, cold truth and I had not accepted it. I could never accept a truth that left me in the dirt, cleaning after other people who looked at me with scorn. I just couldn't.

"Belle, you're not concentrating," Sir Foxwood reprimanded me. "You left that bishop vulnerable to my rook."

I nodded and shifted my wandering attention back to the board. I tried to focus, but too many questions were left to be answered. Was I right and Lindy wrong? She had to be. Serving couldn't be all that I was good for, could it? I could change my life, couldn't I? Was I...was I fooling myself in believing that Sir Foxwood actually thought of me as a friend? How do I think of him?

"Check," Sir Foxwood sighed.

"Check what?" I murmured absently.

"Belle!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "Where is your mind tonight?"

"I can't do this," I shook my head. "I can't do it."

"Do what? You're getting so much better. The last game was actually difficult for me..."

"No, it's not that. I just..."

He looked at me patiently, with nothing but understanding in his eyes. "Since I've known you, you've never been one to bite your tongue. Out with it, Belle."

"I'm a cook!" I blurted suddenly. "You own this," I waved around violently with my hand. "And we're playing chess."

"No, I'm playing, you're just sitting there moving pieces around," he laughed. When he saw that I wasn't joining him, he stopped and wore a serious countenance. "What is it?"

"We're not supposed to be friends," I said, looking at the board. "We're not supposed to be sitting together. Talking."

He looked confused. "When have you ever care about something being proper or not?"

"I'm always going to be a servant!" I cried, tears threatening to spill forth from my eyes. "I'm always going to have a rag in one hand polishing someone's tiara! Everyone's always going to look at the odd dark girl and poke fun at me. It would take me forever to save enough money to change that...and I don't even know if I can!"

"Hush," he beseeched me. "I don't want the guests to wake..."

"Aren't you listening?" I hissed. "Sitting here with you...playing chess...it's only adding to the fairytale. I don't want to make believe!"

"Fairytale? Make believe?"

"I can sit here and think I'm of equal station, that I'm just like you...and then I have to wake up the next morning and cook, and I'm disappointed. I didn't used to be disappointed...bitter...envious...but not disappointed."

"What has chess got to do with—"

"It's not the chess!"

"The guests..."

"Sod the guests!" I cried, finally letting the tears flow freely. I pushed my chair back and with an angry swipe to my cheeks, began to hurry toward the cellar stairs. It hurt to stop when I was having so much fun, and learning so much. I didn't want to, but as Lindy said, I could not afford to fool myself any longer. Sir Foxwood would always be a noble, and I would always be an odd, brown serving girl who shouldn't even look him in the eye.

"Belle," Sir Foxwood called after me, still in his even, aristocratic voice. He touched my arm softly, but I pulled it away.

"Please don't touch me...don't be nice to me. After all, I'm not worth it, am I?" I looked at him painfully.

"Who is this speaking for you?" he asked amazedly. "I know it is not the Oribelle Roberts I know. She would never utter such a sentence."

"She was a fool...with dreams."

"Dream of what? What dreams are so foolish?"

"Dreams of becoming...one of you. Dreams of pretty dresses and shoes without holes. Dreams of not having to work. Dreams...of...of..."

"Those aren't foolish dreams, Belle..."

"Aye? Tell me how I can make them come true?" I asked pitifully.

"That's still not you speaking," he shook his head. "You wouldn't ask me to tell you how to do anything for yourself."

"Sir Foxwood..."

He cleared his throat and looked as though he were struggling with himself. "I've never really asked anyone for anything for myself...so...this is kind of awkward, but please, please...don't stop talking to me because someone put some silly idea in your head. I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together, and if I had to go back to playing by myself I might go mad. You don't want to be the cause of my decent into madness, do you?"

I laughed softly, despite myself. "You're not mad already?"

"There she goes," he cracked a grin. "Forget what ever this thing is that someone said to you. In this short time, I've come to know you as someone who is determined and negligent of the rules...which can be a good thing in many cases...please don't change that either."

"O-Okay."

"Chess? After tomorrow?"

"I..." I hesitated and looked away, through one of the back windows.

"Please?"

"I'll be there," I nodded.

Sir Foxwood smiled broadly and bid me goodnight before retiring upstairs. I looked after him, silently thanking him for helping to make that defiant voice in my head stronger.