Author's Note 1: It's the weekend, so I had some time to sit and type. I did do a once through edit, though I apologize if there are any typos.
I do not own anything pertaining to Once Upon a Time
Chapter 2 The Apple that Fell far from the Tree
It was a comfort to trade the heavy black for her nightgown. She only had the money for a handful of mourning dresses that would have to be re-worn continually for the next months. It was strange-in the day, the grief she felt was only a continuing ache, but the night brought it sharp, painful and heavy, despite trading the light for the dark. She crawled under the heavy quilt and the tears came without a fight. Her mother, then after that her father were both dead and buried on the hill in the parish cemetery. Would she ever be allowed to visit their resting places, or would she forever reside in this cold, solitary place? No, it would not be forever, the little boy would grow and be sent off to school, and she would be where she was before, though perhaps with a bit of experience under her belt to provide her the way to a new position. That is, if she could outlast the strictness of the master, himself.
The sobs threatened to overwhelm her, but she wouldn't let the noise rise and seep through the walls. She would be brave and resilient. Her father had called her the rock that got them through the dark days after her mother's passing. Her world fell apart when her mother had died, but it tore at her father so that he could only stumble around blindly the following year, grasping hold of his daughter as though she were the last thread of life available. Another sob broke through-she hadn't been strong enough, not really. His health failed and he had joined his spouse only eleven months after his wife passed away.
Belle's life felt as lifeless as the corpse's on Avonlea Parish hill. She valiantly wiped the tears from her eyes.
'He that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you' she whispered to the cold stillness. Resurrection, hope. These were the words she grasped hold of, the strength from which she would cling. Each day brought with it hope for new beginnings and resurrected life from dark decay. She would not languish in the depths of despair-that was simply not in Belle's nature nor her faith.
As her eyes grew heavy with the burdens of loss and worries over her tasks ahead, she echoed the words from the Holy book to herself as she fell asleep.
Belle found that when she was most worried about sleeping in, she hardly slept at all. She tossed and turned, anxious for the morning ahead. When the slightest rays penetrated the gauzy curtains of her room, she dragged herself out of bed and began readying herself for the day ahead. She donned her plainest black without pleats nor poof-she much preferred this style, in all honesty, to the large sleeves and heavy skirts of her dressier wear. She knew she was small, and knew that anything with much bulk drowned her. Drowning in a sea of black made her feel even smaller, and she knew she needed to stand as tall as possible so as to gain some respect from her new pupil. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, sighing over the errant curls coming from her updo. She allowed a few to frame her face, as was the fashion, but it was mostly out of necessity, since they would escape any attempt to tame them anyway. Her face looked deathly pale in the black dress, but she brushed down her skirt and squared her shoulders, ready as she could be to face the day.
Then there was the question of where to go, and what to do. Should she dine with the staff? Of course she should. Did the Holy Book not say that it was better to be called up than to be humiliated and sent to the back? She was a hired worker essentially and would probably find better conversation there besides. She weaved her way through the halls, and hoped she was going the correct way. She made a couple of wrong turns, but eventually found a maid who pointed her in the right direction.
In the servant's hall she found a few servants sitting to breakfast, but the murmured conversation went still as she entered. The eyes of each person either stared without hesitation, or they stole glances from their glasses or between bites. It was Mrs. Lucas who finally found her shifting uneasily and motioned her over. Belle smiled thankfully at the housekeeper and moved towards her.
'Now I can't stay, as I have much time to chat, but don't mind the others, they just aren't used to new people-especially not one of your…' Her eyes analyzed her dress, hair, and demeanor. 'Situation in life.'
It could be her in mourning, or it could be her station. If shouting that she was one breath away from the poor or work house could bridge the gap, she would have, but she imagined that it would just make them all think she was mad, which wouldn't be an improvement. She would just be as kind as she could, and hope they could see beyond her grief or station and see her.
She smiled shyly at them all, giving a hearty good morning to any who ventured a smile of their own. It wasn't much, and she found that breakfast tasted better without an audience and went to her new sitting room to prepare for her days ahead.
It was, in fact, a Saturday, something for which she was blessedly thankful. She took to analyzing the basic reader, scouring through a couple of history texts to see what she felt would be feasible for a young boy of six. She had been reminiscing about her own younger years when she heard that she would be a governess, but it also brought fresh grief to the forefront of her mind, and proved to be a difficult task. There were sums he would need to know, and penmanship to learn. She jotted down her ideas for the week and then copied them down as neatly as she could. She wondered how she would present said lesson plans to the master of the manor. Her nerves had just resurfaced when she chanced to look up and see a pair of brown eyes staring at her from the doorway.
'Hello sir.' She ventured and smiled welcomingly at the young man and he jumped at her acknowledgement and smile, before reflecting hers his own bashful grin.
'Are you the new governess?' Now an entire half of his body had made it through the doorway, and he threatened to push the rest of himself through.
'I am indeed. Nice to make your acquaintance, I am Miss French. And can I assume you are Mister Bernard?'
His freckled nose wrinkled in disgust. 'No one calls me that, I hate that name.'
'Dislike. You ought to say dislike instead of hate, Mister, um, well, what would you like to be called, little sir?'
'You may call me Bae, it's my father's nickname that he and Mrs. Lucas call me. The servants call me little master and I hate-well, I very much dislike it as well.'
'Alright Mister Bae it is. Now could you tell me if you know your alphabet?'
He shrugged his shoulders a bit and threw his hands in his britches. 'A few I think. Papa tried to teach me but told me I was impossible.' He grinned again as he mouthed the word impossible, as if it were some sort of vocabulary achievement.
'Do you like exploring the outdoors?'
His eyes grew bright, his body had since inched its way closer and closer to Belle that he could now see some of the volumes that she had been looking through.
'More than anything. Papa lets me ride Philip sometimes and I have a pet squirrel.'
'A pet squirrel?' Belle raised her eyebrows at the young man.
'Alright, so he's not exactly mine, but he visits me all the time in the Enchanted Forest.'
Belle's eyebrows raised further.
'It's not a real enchanted forest,' He explained with a wave of his hands, his fingers still a little chubby from residual babyhood, though she could see it would soon melt away to true boyhood soon. 'But there is a sort of forest on the edge of the property that I like to imagine is an enchanted one.''
'I see.' She beamed at him now, seeing a bit of her own overactive imagination as a child in the wide brown eyes beaming at her. 'And might I assume you enjoy stories, Mister Bae?'
He nodded wildly. 'Magic stories are my favorite. Papa tells the best ones.'
This was quite the revelation to her. The shadowed man bellowing out expectations and rules at her with thinly veiled spite seemed miles away from a man who would tell magical tales to his son. He did love his son. That was evident in even the most sinister of speeches he had given her. Everything she had seen and experienced thus far was for his son. He could be a monster to them all and a man to the little boy, or could it be there was more to him that met the eye-or didn't meet the eye, as the case may be, she thought.
'Why are you wearing black? Papa says that Mrs. Lucas wears black still because she lost her husband. Is that what happened to you?'
She wanted to smile at first that this boy had been courageous enough to ask questions, no matter how heartbreaking. Children were not always encouraged to do so, and she always found that squashing a child's curiosity to be a crime. It was good to steer their questions to those things that were proper and good, but they should be allowed to explore those boundaries.
'No, It was my Papa-he died.'
'Oh.' His little nose wrinkled and his head leaned in curiosity. 'Do you wear black only when your father dies?'
'No, parent or spouse, it is customary to wear black to show you are in mourning. ' her smile had gotten smaller, she knew, but she attempted to remain cheerful.
'But my momma died and I didn't wear black then.'
'Were you very old then, when your mother died?' Children didn't always understand the sentiments behind the words of 'I'm sorry to hear that.' It was clear that he did not, when he had been so forthcoming with his earlier questioning. His voice was calm and hinted at no vexation that Belle thought that questions might be easier than sentiment at present.
'I don't think so-I don't remember her. Papa gets sad when I ask about her, so I don't ask him much.'
'Perhaps that is why you don't remember wearing black then? Perhaps you were too young? Girls are more apt to wear black as well, I'm afraid. As such, you are stuck with a somber looking governess for the next few months, will that be alright?'
'What does somber mean?'
'Dark or sad, I believe.'
'That is what Papa is. When he sits in the evenings and tells me stories he's happy, but all the other times he's s-somber.'
'He might be, but it sounds like he loves you very much and he's happy to be with you. You must be a great comfort to him.' She smiled, hoping the words spoke truth. They had to. The little boy's words were so contrasted to what she had experienced that hope budded anew that her employer might not be sinister, but might actually be sad. Sad for a dead wife, sad for whatever had happened a decade ago, sad for things that Belle could not know, but she hoped to discover eventually. She inwardly scolded herself for such thoughts and focused on the bouncing boy instead.
'Do you think so, Miss French?'
'Mmmm, I do, indeed Mister Bae.'
He spoke of childish things he loved for the next half hour, though his eyes went wide at some movement in the halls that put him in mind of his father and the game they were to play when he got done with business. He bounded away presently and Belle was left alone once more.
The hours ticked by on her classroom clock and she rubbed her aching eyes and walked the length and breadth of the classroom any number of times to stretch her legs. She would gain a habit of walking, she determined, cold weather or no-sitting about in one room all day was not in Belle's nature.
'If you please, Miss.' A maid startled her gloom.
'Yes, Mary was it?' The maid gave half a smile and nodded.
'It was ma'am, and I am come to tell you that the master will see you after dinner in the study to look at your intended lessons, if it would suit.'
'Tell him I will be there, thank you Mary. And when is dinner, if you would be so kind?'
'I reckon it will be in the next half hour, ma'am.'
Belle nodded and smiled for a dismissal. Belle gathered her papers and her courage and arranged her lessons in a neat fashion. She went down to her bedroom to see if there was to be any change to her appearance made before appearing to the man of the house-though she also wondered if there was any point of doing so, since she was not only in mourning but also would be in utter darkness in that den. Freshening up had been a habit her mother instilled when she often flew into dinner after forgetting the time while reading. She pushed back an errant curl or two, pinched her cheeks to try to add any color to the icy paleness that glanced back at her, and went down to the dining hall once more.
Belle couldn't say whether she was more or less apprehensive upon entering the study the second time around. She willed her hands to stop shaking the papers in her hands and stood as straight and tall as she could before knocking at the door.
'Enter.' A gruff voice met her. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that same voice telling the little boy a story, telling herself that there was a man behind the monster somewhere. She opened her eyes again and met the eye of the man himself.
'Miss French, won't you sit down?' The voice had changed to something resembling politeness, though cold, indifferent politeness it may have been.
'You have the lessons for me?'
'Yes sir, here you are, sir.'
Her voice faltered a little, the extra light on his desk catching his face and Belle bit back any gasp or alarm she felt. Her eyes fell to her hands, feeling ashamed when his eye met hers and she knew she had been staring.
'I thought to slowly get you used to this, Miss French-I know the first time seeing this.' His hand when to his face, though the hand itself startled Belle a bit. 'Can be quite a shock. However, you are now part of the household, therefore you must accustom yourself a little with it, if you are to continue.'
'Sir-I'
'No need to name off insincere sentiments, I am aware of my appearance-flattery and lies will do nothing but evoke my wrath, and I already told you what an unpleasant thing that is.'
Belle said nothing. She wanted to say so many things, and ask so many questions, but she would not do so. She brushed her skirt instead, and looked back up to where Mr. Gold sat pouring over her plans, her gaze trying to go anywhere except the place most vulnerable to Mr. Gold.
'Could I make a request, sir?'
The dancing light only sent slivers of light on his face, and though she had gained an understanding of the countenance of her employer, it still hid the nuances of his emotions.
'I find it a bit presumptuous that you would make one so early, do you not have everything that you need? What have you done to earn such a thing?' Why must his first instinct be to insult and presume?
'You misunderstand me sir, it's for my lessons, I wished to ask if you might have a volume of fairy tales.'
'And why, in Heaven's name do you need that. You aren't babying him in a nursery, and as yet the boy cannot read. I will not pay you to simply entertain him, he needs an education.'
Belle squared her shoulders, determining not to be intimidated.
'I see no reason why stories, even those of great fiction, cannot be used for dual purposes. Often fairy tales, myths, and legends teach us life lessons about honesty, truth, and goodness. However, your son expressed a keen enjoyment of fairy stories, and I thought that perhaps if he saw that the letters he learned made up the stories he loved, then perhaps he might be more motivated in learning.'
Belle was glad that there was at least a little light in the room. She knew he had at least heard her, though he had gone strangely quiet.
'You've spoken well.' She could hardly believe the compliment. 'I see sense in the plan. I'll see what I can do.'
She smiled at him, and he looked as if he didn't know how to respond. She wondered if it was something a governess ought not do and tried to adapt her features to being merely pleasant.
'Your plans are acceptable, and I look forward to seeing my son's progress. You may begin your duties on Monday. Being a clergyman's daughter I expect you'll want to pray and study. I do not go to church myself, but I believe Mrs. Lucas does as well as many of the servants. You may go with them, if you so choose.'
He waved his hands in dismissal and she found herself leaving the study this time more confused than anything else. She had seen why he had earned the moniker of monster, but she wondered that it didn't horrify her at all.
Author's Note 2: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I *think* I'll eventually do a Gold pov, but I waited for now, since it's still not discovered what he actually looks like or what has caused his reputation. It will all be revealed soon! Comments really do make my day, so let me know if you like it :)
