CHAPTER SIX:
SETTING AFFAIRS
"Maybe he's staying longer in Beaumont," Alya suggested positively. "Maybe he made a business deal with a merchant or something."
Marinette was unconvinced. "He would have sent a letter," she told her friend as she measured and remeasured the pink satin sleeves of the dress she was making. She could barely concentrate, but working helped to ease the pang of worry in her chest.
Six nights had passed since her father had left for Beaumont. In the past, he always came back on the fifth night. But no matter how long Marinette had sat by her window, none of the dark silhouettes coming up the street to their bakery had been Tom Dupain. Though she hid it well, Marinette's mother was becoming more anxious by the hour.
It was only when Marinette poked herself with her needle for the fourth time when she threw it and the sleeve down in frustration. Alya winced, but said nothing.
Marinette sucked on her finger before turning to her friend, her face the look of pure devastation. "It's not like him, Alya. I know something happened to him – I just know it! What if he's out there in the middle of the woods, freezing cold and unable to move?" She took several gulps of air. "I should've gone with him. I begged him –"
"What would you have done?" Alya interjected. "Marinette, I love you, but do you really think a seventeen-year-old girl would stand a chance out there in the wild?"
Marinette sighed and ran a hand through her hair, which was down this time. She tugged furiously at the strands. "At least Papa wouldn't be alone," she stated, her voice breaking. Her eyes burned, but she forced herself to hold back her sorrow. She wouldn't cry now. She needed to hold onto hope, lest she lose that, too.
Alya came over and hugged her. "Tell you what: why don't you come to the inn tonight? We can hang out in my room, sip some hot cocoa, do some art… take your mind off things while you wait."
Marinette squeezed her friend back. As much as she wanted to go back home and wait all night for her father to come home, she knew it would not do her any favours wearing out the floorboards with her pacing. "Hot cocoa sounds nice," she replied.
Alya beamed. "Sooo," she said slyly as she pulled away, "any word from your charming suitor yet?"
Marinette groaned and retrieved her fallen items. "He came to the bakery yesterday… with a big bouquet of flowers. I convinced Maman to tell him that I was out running errands while I hid upstairs."
"Boy, that Theo Barbot doesn't take "no" for an answer, does he?" Alya shrugged and leaned against the counter. "Still, it's kind of a sweet gesture, going to great lengths to win your heart and all."
"He's sweet, all right," Marinette remarked dryly, "and assertive, and shallow, and…" She sighed and broke off a piece of string with her teeth. "Can I ask you something? How did you know Nino was the right one for you?"
Alya giggled, and her face brightened as though the very memory of it filled her with happiness. Marinette couldn't help but envy that kind of feeling. "Oh, believe me, it wasn't like we planned it or anything," the redhead explained. "He was a total dork when we first met him, remember? But as the years passed and I spent more time with him, I…" She lifted her shoulders. "I don't know. It just… happened. I saw Nino for who he was, and he saw me. And then one day, he just mustered up the courage and told me what he really felt for me. No bouquets or gifts or love songs or anything – just him and the words he spoke from his heart." Her sun-kissed cheeks blushed a soft red. "I'll spare you the whole tear-jerking speech and all… but that's when I realized that I was in love with him, too."
"Aww…" Marinette cooed. As jealous as she was of her friend's love life, she was undeniably touched by it as well.
"So, even if Theo isn't the one for you, Marinette, don't be too quick to judge a book by its cover." Alya nudged her friend with her elbow. "Once you meet the right guy, you'll know it in your heart… and no one and nothing will tell you different."
Marinette nudged her friend back. "Thanks, Alya. You're –"
The door to the dress shop swung open, letting in a sudden rush of cold air. Both girls snapped around to see Nino leaning against the threshold, his breathing coming out in big rushes. His scarf and coat were swept away from him at an awkward angle. He looked like he had run from the end of Villeneuve and back.
"Mari… nette…" Nino panted, his brown eyes big with glee. "Your… father's back…"
The blunette almost lost her balance.
"Say again?" Alya blurted.
Nino straightened and glanced between them both. "I was just… at the bakery…" He coughed and took a deep breath. "I was taking with your mother, Marinette… and then, your father showed up with all this stuff, and…"
Marinette's heart leapt to her throat, and she clasped her hands together. "He's back? He's okay?" Nino nodded, and Marinette squealed. "Oh, thank God – he's okay!" She gave Alya a whopping kiss on the cheek, then did the same to Nino, and then fetched her cloak and boots before racing out the door. Madame Bustier called after her with distress, but Marinette ignored her.
Her father was home! He was safe! Everything was all right again!
She lifted her skirt up as she bounded through the thick layer of snow, her smile as big and bright as the sun shining up in the sky today.
When she arrived at the bakery, however, she didn't recognize the wagon parked in front of it, or the handsome white stallion who perked its head up when Marinette came close. She gave it a gentle nose rub as a hello, and then swept inside.
The main counter was deserted.
"Papa?" she called, checking every nook of the shop. "Papa!"
"Marinette…" came her father's small voice from upstairs.
She smiled big and climbed the stairs to their little living space. There, seated on his wobbly chair and leaning all hunched-like over his knees, was Tom Dupain. His whole face was red, and his eyes were swollen and devoid of any joy.
Sabine stood beside him with her hands on his broad shoulder. She barely had time to look up before her daughter came rushing forward.
Marinette threw her arms around her father's neck. "Oh, Papa – thank goodness you're back!" she said with half a laugh. "I was so worried! Where have you been? Where did you get the wagon? What was Beaumont like?" She had so many questions lined up, but when she stepped back to take a breather, she saw that her father had barely formed a smile.
Only then did Marinette see the underlying grief in his face; the soullessness of his eyes. "Papa?" All that dread from earlier today crept back into her veins. "What's wrong?"
Tom looked so pained, like his next words were stabbing him in the gut. "Oh, ma cherie, I… I'm so sorry…" He buried his face in his big hands. "I've made a terrible mistake!"
Marinette staggered back a bit. Her father – the nicest, humblest, most respectable man she had ever known, who had always comforted her whenever she cried over a scraped knee – was weeping? "Papa, you're scaring me. What happened?"
It was her mother who answered, her voice heavy. "Why don't you come sit down, sweetie?"
The candles had shrunken low, and the night outside Marinette's window was nothing but a black, starless void.
As cold and empty as the void inside Marinette.
In her hands, she clutched the ivory rose so hard, the thorns pricked her fingers until they bled. She wanted so badly to throw it onto the ground and grind it into mesh under her foot.
But it wasn't the rose's fault, and Marinette knew it.
She had sat at the dining table for hours, speechless from shock while her father told her the fascinating yet horrific tale of the castle in the forest, and the half-human beast who dwelled there. Cat Noir – that was his name. Marinette kept shaking her head while Tom stumbled over the part where he was forced to make that deal.
One week here, and then an eternity alone in a castle. With a monster.
Marinette's parents were downstairs now, talking under their breath. But the walls weren't thick enough to hold back even the softest whisper. Sabine was crying, her voice breaking as she tried to talk Tom out of leaving. Her husband made shushing noises and kept repeating the same thing over and over again. It's going to be all right. I'll be fine. You're more important than me. It's going to be all right.
But it wasn't going to be all right. Marinette had practically screamed that at her father. The sounds of their earlier argument still lingered in the floorboards.
Tom hadn't budged. "What's done is done, Marinette. I took something that didn't belong to me, and now Cat Noir demands payment in exchange. The important thing is that you and your mother will have the lives you both deserve. The jewels alone are worth a dozen bakeries! You can build a new home here, or in the countryside. Wear nice clothes, never have to work a day in your life again…"
"I don't want that!" Marinette had shouted through her tears. "The beast can take back every single coin, for all I care! I want you to stay here, Papa! You don't deserve to be locked up behind stone walls! You can't go back! You just can't!" She had fallen to her knees at her father's feet, and she sobbed as he stroked her hair.
"If I don't go back," Tom had argued gently, "Cat Noir will lock me up, and you two won't last a month on your own. A life for the rose – that was the deal." He sighed heavily. "I know it's hard, ma cherie, but you must forget about me and move on with your life."
Marinette had looked up at him incredulously. "Forget about you? Papa, everything I am is because of you!" That's when her father's words fully registered in her mind, and she found a solution. "He said a life for a rose… but he didn't say that it had to be yours."
She had never seen her father look so shocked and so frightening at the same time. He stood from his chair so fast, it clattered to the floor. "No. Out of the question."
Marinette stood with him, her own expression hardening. "Papa, I'm the one who asked for the rose. I'm the reason all of this happened. If anyone deserves to pay, it should be me."
"No!" Tom hollered.
"Marinette, you don't know what you're saying!" Sabine gasped.
"Yes, I do!" Marinette had argued back. "If I go in Papa's place –"
Tom shook his head and grasped his daughter's hand gently. "Listen to me, Marinette. I'm old. I've lived my life. You have so much do look forward to! I won't let you just… throw it all away!"
Marinette locked her blue eyes with her father's green ones, unflinching. "And I won't spend the rest of my life stuffing myself and wallowing in luxury knowing that I was the one who put you in that castle!"
Tom's mustache twisted fiercely, and his face burned with both anger and despair. He turned away and headed for the stairs. "It's late," he said gruffly. "Off to bed with you."
"Papa, you can't –!"
"Don't argue with me, young lady. Bed. Now!"
Red hot anger had filled Marinette's vision, and she was glad that her father saw her when she rushed over to her cot and fell across it before sobbing hysterically into her arms. She cried long after she heard her father's heavy footsteps and her mother's light ones descending down the steps.
For what seemed like hours, Marinette lay there, silent and hollow and cold. Holding the rose that had sealed her father's fate.
It's my fault… and my father is going to pay for my mistake.
She didn't think she would sleep at all that night, yet somehow, she did.
Morning was quiet and grim. Marinette barely said a single word to her parents before heading off to work. Her steps were slow and heavy, just like the rest of her was.
Not even a few hours of pressing and seaming dresses lifted her spirits. Madame Bustier noticed her apprentice's pale complexion and assumed she was ill, so she gave her the afternoon off. And when Marinette headed silently for The Sleeping Fox and knocked on Alya's bedroom door, she and Nino ran to her with worried expressions, asking what was going on.
So, Marinette told them. All of it.
Strangely enough, the more she spoke, the more she came back into herself. Her resolve stitched itself together and hardened into an unwavering tapestry of hope and courage. That's when she told her friends of her plan.
As expected, they fervently disagreed.
"Your father's right, Marinette!" Nino stated. "You can't just throw your life away when you've barely begun to live it!"
Alya had tears in her amber eyes, making them glisten like jewels. "You can't go, Marinette! You… You just can't! It's not fair!"
Marinette shook her head, unmoved by their words. "I know the kind of life I would have here, guys. I could have a sliver of a king's treasure, and nothing would really change. The villagers, the town… All of it will still see me as a pretty baker's daughter. I'll just have a dowry to my name now, and that's all men will want me for. I doubt even Chloe Bourgeois will welcome me with open arms."
"To hell with Chloe!" Alya snapped, and Nino nodded. "And to hell with the villagers! This is you we're talking about Marinette!" She gripped her friend's hand in hers. "You're so good and clever and kind, and you don't deserve to live as a monster's prisoner!"
Marinette smiled weakly and patted Alya's hand. It felt so cold. "Cat Noir promised a life as an honoured guest, not a prisoner."
"It's the same thing! Either way, you'll never get to leave… or see your friends and family ever again!"
Marinette stared down at her feet. "I know," she said, "but this is my choice, Alya. I'm going to do this, no matter what you say. I'm only telling you because I love you, and you deserve to know."
Alya's face told Marinette that she didn't like it, but she understood. The redhead bent over, her voice hitching in ragged gasps as she cried. Nino tried to put a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder, but she shrugged it off. The young musician swallowed hard and then looked back at Marinette with a pleading gaze.
"I'll be fine," Marinette assured them both, though she could feel the lie inside her own words. "My mother and father sacrificed so much for me over the years. It's high time I return the favour."
Even if it meant living with a beast, even if it meant sacrificing her dreams, her life, and everyone she knew and loved, Marinette would do what she felt was right.
She would not let her parents and the love they shared be torn apart. Her father deserved to be free, and her mother deserved to have her old life back.
For them, Marinette would journey to the ends of the earth.
It was the slowest, most agonizing week of Marinette's life, but she forced herself to be brave.
She finished all the chores she needed to get done. She arrived earlier for work and stayed longer to complete all her orders. She even made those strawberry tarts for Madame Bustier, and cherished the hug and kiss her boss had given her for the thoughtful gift. Alya and Nino pitched in whenever they could, helping Marinette run some last-minute errands for supplies.
All that time, Tom and Sabine never caught wind of their daughter's schemes. It had been difficult to lie to them or hide the things Marinette was doing from them, considering how Tom spent every waking second with his family. Marinette wanted to spend every second she could with him too, and with her mother. She would never get another chance in the future.
Whenever Marinette ever encountered Theo or Chloe, she merely treated them as kindly as she could. She even gifted them with special treats, leaving the former delighted and the latter flabbergasted. Headmaster Damocles got a box of eclairs on his doorstep one afternoon, and this time, he had no cause for complaint. Little Manon received a brand new children's book, "The Blue Bird", along with a note that said, Don't tell anyone. – M.
The trunks of gold and jewels Tom had brought home made the family disgustingly wealthy. Tom immediately made arrangements for the bakery to be renovated, and for his wife and daughter to be moved into one of the old manors on the far side of town. The landlord happily agreed to have the whole place cleaned and polished up when Tom gave him a lovely sum of rubies.
Upon hearing of Marinette's newfound fortune, Chloe Bourgeois went into a hysterical fit of rage and jealousy. "Ridiculous!" she hollered in the street, startling her three companions. "Utterly ridiculous!" It made quite the spectacle, much to Marinette and Alya's mutual amusement.
By the time the seventh day had come, all of Marinette's affairs were set in order. With a heavy heart, she spent her remaining free time writing her letters. The first was for Madame Bustier, thanking her for believing in Marinette and noting she would leave her a bag of gold to help keep her business running until she could find a new apprentice. The second letter was for Marinette's parents, and she had to rewrite it because she had smudged the ink on the first one with her tears.
When she was finished, Marinette kissed it, folded it up, and stuffed it under her bed so her parents wouldn't see it. That's when she saw her mother's music box. With shaking hands, Marinette took it out and opened the lid. She closed her eyes and listened to the lullaby as it played on. She hummed along with it, willing it to memory so that she could keep it with her always.
Marinette heard footsteps, and she hastily snapped the lid shut before turning to see her mother gazing at her sadly.
Sabine held up a small, worn-out scarf of sky blue. Judging from the soapy smell it gave off, Marinette suspected her mother had washed it. "You're going to need this," Sabine said with a mischievous gleam in her silver eyes. "It's cold out there in the woods."
For a moment, Marinette wondered if her mother was sending her out on a last minute errand. Then… In the woods. She inhaled sharply, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. If she tells Papa… "How did you know?"
Sabine chuckled softly through her mouth. "I've been keeping secrets long before you, Marinette. I know the signs."
Marinette drummed her fingers on the wooden lid of the music box. "Maman, I…" she began, but then stopped when her mother came over and sat on the floor beside her.
"When I left Paris, all those years ago," Sabine said, her mouth quivering with regret, "I did it only for myself. For my own interests." She sighed. "It takes a lot of courage to leave home over something like that… and even more courage when you have the interests of others at heart."
Marinette smiled, straining as it was. She brushed her knuckles over her mother's cheek. "You and Papa raised me to be the best person I could be," she said. "You're the one who inspired me to be strong; to follow my heart. My heart is telling me I must do this… no matter how much it hurts."
Suddenly, both of them were crying, and embracing each other so tight, Marinette swore her head would pop off. She didn't care.
"Whatever happens," Sabine said in high-pitched whispers, "promise me you'll keep us in your heart. That you'll be brave and strong, and never forget what really matters."
Marinette nodded into her shoulder. "I promise, Maman. I will always love you." Then, she whispered more seriously, "And I will escape someday. I promise."
Her mother's spine straightened a bit at that, but she merely rubbed her hands over Marinette's back. "If you do, go out there and find a better life, my love. Find it, and never let it go."
It was too painful for Marinette to respond with words, so she nodded.
That night, the family ate their last meal together at the kitchen table, and topped it off with Tom's Secret Soufflé.
They spent the rest of the night sitting beside each other on the couch, talking and laughing at some of the memories they shared, and holding each other close. Marinette treasured it all, refusing to let the truth of her heart show in front of her father.
As they readied for bed, Tom kissed his daughter on both cheeks. "I'm setting out at first light," he said sullenly. "You can… Well, you know."
Marinette nodded, struggling to hold her smile. "I love you, Papa," she said. "Always."
The baker lifted her into his beefy arms and crushed her lovingly. "I love you, too... ma cherie." His tears streamed into her midnight-blue hair.
After that, Marinette kissed her mother goodnight… and their mutual glances said goodbye in their hearts.
She closed her eyes as she lay under the covers, pretending to be asleep while listening to her parents shuffling through the room. And when her father blew the candles out, Marinette counted the seconds until Tom was snoring away peacefully.
The crescent moon was arching over the town when Marinette finally crept out of bed and dressed ever-so-silently for her long trip to the castle: rose-coloured pants tucked into her winter boots, a white shirt with a black riding jacket overtop, her least worn-out pair of woolen mittens, and her blue winter cloak.
For good measure, she pinned the ivory rose her father had given her onto the front of her jacket.
When that was finished, Marinette tied her hair back into a plaited braid. Then, she retrieved her pack and her letters from underneath her bed. She stood and looked over to the bed where her parents slept.
They looked so quiet; so blissfully unaware of their daughter's plot.
Marinette smiled and blew them a kiss. She placed her parents' letter on the kitchen table, propping it up against the water jug. Then, with one last look at what she was leaving behind, the baker's daughter crept down the stairs on the front pads of her boots. Every squeak and creak would betray her, so she kept her movements slow. Finally, she reached the bottom and grasped the bell of the front door to stop it from jingling as she slipped out into the cold.
Alya and Nino were waiting for her before the bakery, the former holding the reins of the white stallion, and the latter holding up a glowing torch. Both of them wore solemn expressions.
Marinette wasted no time securing her pack on the saddle. Then, she handed Alya her final letter. "Give this to Madame Bustier," she whispered. "Tell her… Tell her I'm sorry."
"I will," Alya vowed, pulling her friend into a bone-crushing hug. "You're the bravest, most amazing friend I've ever had, you know that?"
Marinette grinned and returned the embrace before kissing Alya on both cheeks. "I'll… I'll write to you. When I can." She didn't believe Cat Noir would let her, but false hope was better than none at all.
Nino inched the torch away from them as he took his turn, wrapping one arm around Marinette's waist. "Stay safe, Bluebell," he murmured into her hair.
Marinette nodded before kissing him on the cheek, just once. "Take good care of her. You hear me?" Nino grinned and gave her a salute.
Satisfied, Marinette climbed onto the horse and grasped the reins in both hands. The creature stomped its hooves in approval, ready to return to its master. The blunette looked down at her friends one last time. The couple now stood side-by-side. Nino held Alya close to him while she reached back to touch his hand on her shoulder. Neither of them took their eyes off their friend.
Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a cloud forming in front of her face. "Goodbye," she said. Then, she leaned down and addressed her mount. "Take me to the castle."
The white stallion gave a soft, sad whinny before it set off down the street, its hooves clopping soundlessly against the snow.
Marinette looked back just once. She saw Nino's tearing face in the light of his torch. She saw Alya bury her head against her boyfriend's chest.
Almost too quickly, Marinette looked away, ignoring the sensation of the wind stinging her wet eyes as she galloped out of Villeneuve… and into the darkness of the forest.
