I want all of you to applaud me for blowing off important homework in order to write this chapter.
As usual, I'd like to thank all the amazing, amazing, amazing reviewers of the last chapter: Silverleaf of the Faerie, Bellaroe, Whiteling, and tinkerbelldetention101. Without you, I wouldn't bother to write, and instead of spending all afternoon on the computer, I would have had a productive day. (Really, in all seriousness, thank you so much for the reviews.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 6:
Belle gazed complacently into her bowl of soup. She had not been so close to contentment in a very long time. It was a dark Sunday evening, roughly a week and half after she had first dared to insult the Beast. She and Francoise were dining together in the kitchen, as was their custom. They sat on stools before the hearth, neither one speaking.
It had been a good day. Early in the morning, Belle and Francoise had left the castle to attend the local church. Since her arrival at the palace, Belle had not left the grounds, so she had nearly danced to the church service. Francoise had attempted to quell the girl's exuberance, but her efforts had come to naught. Belle's joy could not be restrained.
"You've calmed down since this morning," Francoise suddenly remarked, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the room.
"I know," Belle said, smiling at the old woman.
"I was afraid you were going to start leaping for joy in the middle of the service."
Belle giggled, but shook her head. "The Beast said I had to go unnoticed. I wouldn't disobey his commands, no matter how badly I might have wanted to leap."
"You're still afraid of him."
"Not very afraid. I don't worry that he might hurt me anymore."
"He told you he wouldn't on the first day you met him," Francoise pointed out. Her voice was thick with exasperation.
"I know he did, but how was I to believe him? He was so big and frightening, and he always loomed over me as though he was going to…to…"
"Consume you in a single inhalation?" Francoise dryly suggested.
"Exactly!" Before Francoise could say anything else, Belle added, "I know it was foolish of me nonetheless."
"I'm glad you realize that." Francoise paused to spoon some soup into her mouth. When she had swallowed, she looked over at Belle and asked, "Were you and the master arguing last night?"
"You were listening?"
"I almost always listen." Francoise was unperturbed by the startled look on Belle's face.
"Oh. I see," Belle said with a disturbed frown. "No, we weren't really arguing. I just didn't understand what he was trying to tell me, and he became frustrated."
"What was he trying to tell you?"
"He had said that you told him about our conversation about his parents." Belle paused before asking, "Do you tell him everything?"
"Almost everything, yes," Francoise affirmed.
Belle frowned again, but continued with her narrative. "So, he brought up our conversation, and at first I was afraid he was offended that we'd been talking about him behind his back, but he didn't seem to be."
Francoise snorted as she set her empty bowl down on the floor. "Of course he wasn't offended. To talk about him and his family is to treat him like a human being. Nothing makes him happier than that."
"Why?"
"Ask him yourself," Francoise sharply replied. "Stop using me as a go-between."
"Sorry," Belle hastily apologized, placing her bowl on the floor next to Francoise's.
Francoise shook her head. "No matter. Continue your story."
Belle took a deep breath before continuing, "I asked him if you had told me the truth, and he said yes, you had. Then he asked me what I thought. I told him that I didn't think it was possible. That is, I didn't see how he could have had human parents. I asked if he was adopted, but he just laughed at me."
"Of course he did."
"Then he started to talk about the forest," Belle said, frowning as she recollected the Beast's words. "He kept referring to 'deep magic' and told me I'd encounter it very soon, or something like that, but it seemed that he was speaking in riddles, and I just didn't understand. He soon became annoyed and told me, 'Stretch your narrow mind. Stop thinking in a box. Don't be so dense.' He said that several times. Eventually, I also became frustrated. I asked him to speak more clearly, and he said I needed a brain that thought more clearly."
Francoise snickered at these words.
"It's not funny, Francoise!"
"Pardon me," Francoise said, still chuckling. "Having known the master since his infancy, I enjoy his way with words."
"That's terrible!" Belle exclaimed. "You shouldn't enjoy it. It's no wonder he says so many awful things with you encouraging him. I wish you both would stop insulting me all the time." Francoise's lack of sympathy was swiftly siphoning Belle's good mood away.
"I don't encourage the master to his face," Francoise said with a haughty sniff.
"Well," Belle continued after a brief pause, "that's why we argued last night. But it wasn't a very bad argument."
"Belle," the Beast's voice suddenly boomed from the entrance to the kitchen.
Belle nearly fell off her stool with fright. When she had gathered her wits, she twisted about to see the Beast. His black, shaggy bulk filled the doorway, and his red eyes roamed from one end of the kitchen to the other. He seemed curious, as though he had never before seen the room.
"Good evening, master," Francoise said, submissively bowing her head to him. Belle didn't understand how the old woman could react so calmly to the Beast's sudden appearance. Why had he come? He barely ever left his chambers. What could possibly be important enough to drive the Beast to the kitchen? Was there an emergency?
The Beast ignored Francoise's greeting. "Come with me, Belle," he commanded.
Belle obediently rose from her stool. "Why?" she asked as she cautiously approached the Beast.
He didn't reply immediately, but backed out of the room and into the hall. When Belle had followed, he silently ordered her to accompany him with a jerk of his head. As they were ascending the main staircase, he finally spoke.
"While you and Francoise were away, I searched the entire castle for something I wanted to show you."
This was unexpected. Burning with curiosity, Belle looked up at her horned companion. "What is it?"
"You'll see," the Beast roughly replied. "If I had wanted you to know right now, I would have already told you."
Chastened, Belle quickly looked away from him. She wished he wouldn't speak so heartlessly. Even when he was in a relatively good mood, he seemed incapable of uttering a kind word. Why couldn't he just say, "It's a surprise"? Her earlier happiness, already greatly reduced by Francoise's jibes, was continuing to evaporate at a startling rate.
They were now in the east wing of the palace. Belle knew very little of this area, since it was some distance from her chamber. It seemed much cleaner than the rest of the palace, as though someone scoured the floors on a regular basis. Belle was accustomed to a thin layer of grime on every surface, but here in the east wing, dust could only be found in the deepest corners.
"What are you thinking?" the Beast suddenly asked. When Belle failed to reply, he added mockingly, "Are you thinking at all?"
"Yes, I am," Belle replied, a little defensively. "I was marveling at how clean the east wing is."
The Beast snorted. "What mundane thoughts," he rumbled. "Vincent cleans this wing regularly."
"Vincent?" Belle repeated, completely confused.
"Francoise's nephew. Another servant."
That made sense. Belle only wondered why Francoise had never mentioned Vincent before. "Does he live here?"
"Most of the time."
Suddenly, the long, dark hallway opened up into a circular room, lit by an immense chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was no furniture, but the walls were covered with paintings. "The walls were bare until this morning," the Beast informed Belle. "I searched for the paintings while you were attending church. Vincent hung them."
"Why?" Belle was still immensely puzzled. She hadn't expected the Beast to show her an art gallery.
"Come this way," the Beast replied, jerking his head towards a set of portraits. His harsh voice sounded almost eager. He strode swiftly towards the paintings, looking over his shoulder to make sure Belle was following. He stopped abruptly when he reached the portrait of a middle-aged noble with a serious face. "My father," he stated before Belle could ask who the man was.
Belle didn't respond. She was too shocked to speak. For a full minute, she simply gazed at the portrait. After a while, her eyes drifted to the adjacent painting, which depicted a slender, dark-haired noblewoman. "Your mother?" she quietly asked.
The Beast grunted.
"She's beautiful," Belle murmured.
"You sound surprised," he rumbled.
Belle made no reply.
They stood in silence for a few more minutes. Suddenly, the Beast growled, "Stop lurking in the corridor, Vincent. Come in."
Belle turned to see a pale-faced man emerge from the shadows of the hallway. He was fairly tall and looked strong, though he hunched over a bit. Belle guessed he was about thirty years old. Although he nodded to Belle and bowed to the Beast, he did not speak.
"This is Belle," the Beast said, gesturing to the girl with one of his massive paws.
Vincent nodded and gave her a half-smile. The Beast, apparently having nothing more to say to the man, turned back to the portraits. Belle surreptitiously watched him as he surveyed the paintings with his keen red eyes. Although she couldn't quite tell, she thought he looked a bit sad. Or perhaps he was just angry again. It was quite possible that either she or Vincent had unwittingly done something to annoy him.
Finally, she decided she ought to say something. "Thank you for showing me these portraits," she quietly said. He must have very badly wanted her to see them, she reasoned, or else he never would have fetched her from the kitchen. She felt that a polite expression of gratitude for his troubles was required, if for no other reason than to appease him.
The Beast made a strange noise in his throat, but said nothing. After a few more silent minutes, he growled and turned away from the paintings. "Now you've seen them," he said as he stomped back to the hallway.
Both Belle and Vincent, who had remained standing in the middle of the room, watched the Beast depart. Vincent glanced awkwardly at Belle, then followed his master, leaving Belle alone in the room of paintings. After several seconds of solitude, she began to feel uncomfortable under the stern gazes of the Beast's parents. She soon left the gallery, completely bewildered.
It took a very long time for Belle to wind her way out of the east wing. The halls were dark, she was unaccustomed to the region of the palace, and her busy thoughts were slowing her down. The Beast's behavior had been very strange; from his appearance in the kitchen to the fact that he had created an art gallery, he had not been acting like himself. Moreover, Belle was slightly troubled to think that, although Vincent had been living in the palace since her arrival, she had neither seen nor heard him - nor heard of him, for that matter - until now.
She passed the Beast as she crossed the landing of the main staircase. Oddly enough, he was sitting at the foot of the stairs, evidently deep in thought. As Belle scurried across the floor, hoping to go unnoticed and wondering why on earth the Beast was there, he lifted his shaggy head and asked in a low voice, "Did you look at the other paintings?"
Belle froze. Had he expected her to look at the other paintings? "N-No," she timidly replied, praying that he would not be too angry with her. "Would you like me to?"
Rising, the Beast shook his head. "If you wish it," he said, still keeping his voice at a strangely soft volume. "Don't be afraid of Vincent," he added, before swiftly striding away.
Belle remained still until his heavy footsteps could no longer be heard. Sighing in confusion and frustration, she continued on to her chamber. She felt that she would never understand the ways of the Beast or his bizarre household.
Weeell...what do you think? I have great plans for Vincent!