I present to you... a horrifyingly overdue chapter! Thank you all for your vast patience. I let the past semester conquer me, and my fanfic productivity plummeted accordingly. Hopefully this chapter can make up for the delay?
As always, thank you SO MUCH for your reviews! Immense gratitude to phoenixcurse, Moonlight Iridescence, rando reader, stellavance, Akora17, and all guest reviewers. You are awesome.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 15:
Belle was always glad when Vincent came to visit. In some ways, his visits were a burden, as they reminded her of the past and kept her heart from completely letting go of her time at the Beast's castle. But she didn't mind so much. It would have been unnatural and perhaps even wrong to pretend that her months with the Beast had never occurred.
When Vincent first wrote and asked if he could come see her, Belle's heart had nearly stopped. She had not expected to ever again enjoy contact with anyone of the Beast's household. A thrill ran up her spine as she wondered whether the Beast had told Vincent to write. But that sort of speculation was very unhelpful, so she tried to suppress it as best she could.
Now Vincent came every few weeks. On several occasions Francoise had also come. They kept Belle abreast of news from the castle and the village. She both rejoiced and trembled to hear of the Beast, of his moods and of his doings.
Belle's family members didn't quite know what to make of their strange visitors. Marie was always courteous, but after Vincent left, she often turned to Belle and remarked, "I wish he wouldn't stare so much. He makes me uncomfortable." Belle refrained from telling her that Vincent only stared because Marie shared a name with his departed mother.
Belle's father pronounced Vincent a "singularly unfortunate man." Her brother-in-law Adam described him as "a mysterious fellow who ought to be full of intrigue, but in fact is rather dull." Unable to convince them of Vincent's true worth, Belle left them to their judgmental misconceptions. As the autumn months passed and winter drew near, she resigned herself to the fact that she could never really explain what had occurred during her time with the Beast. Laurent came closest to understanding, but even he had limits.
Once Belle had dared to tell Laurent of her love for the Beast. Until then, he had only known that she had struck up some sort of friendship with her monstrous captor. He recoiled from the truth. "Such love must be truly foul," he said. They never spoke of it again.
During November, Vincent began to visit with much greater frequency, and Francoise accompanied him more often than usual. One chilly afternoon, as Belle greeted the two of them in the spacious antechamber of her sister's home, she could not help exclaiming, "This is three times within two weeks that you have visited! What a pleasure it is for me."
"Is it?" Francoise asked, raising her eyebrows skeptically. "We wouldn't want to intrude." She glanced at Marie, who stood a few paces behind Belle and whose expression was rather tense.
"It is no intrusion," Belle insisted. She beckoned for Francoise and Vincent to follow her into the sitting room. "But it's somewhat surprising. How do you have the time? Doesn't the Beast mind your absence?"
"The master is away at present," Francoise cautiously replied as she entered the sitting room, a light, airy chamber with almost too many windows. How different it was from the Beast's castle.
"Away?" Belle repeated. She looked between Vincent and Francoise with wide eyes. "He never leaves the castle."
"He never did," Vincent agreed, "but he left two weeks ago and has not yet returned."
"Where did he go?"
"He said he was going to the mountains for a time," Francoise said. She spoke calmly, but Belle could sense her anxiety.
Although Belle had often assumed that Francoise was a complete stranger to strong emotion, the old woman fidgeted throughout her visit, clearly ill at ease and desperately worried about the Beast. She twiddled her thumbs; she moved her foot in circles over the lush carpet. When she began to rhythmically drum her fingers on her knees, Belle stopped asking Vincent about his plans for improving his dwelling and instead turned to Francoise.
"Do we think we ought to go search for him?" she asked. She had wanted to ask this when they first arrived, but had refrained in order to avoid seeming too eager. She wryly thought that she truly was too eager. If the Beast appeared to her at that very moment, she would likely throw herself at him without a second's thought.
Where was the Beast? Belle thought for one panicked second that perhaps he had wandered away to die. But that did not sound at all like the Beast she knew. Did she really know the Beast? Perhaps not.
"I doubt we could find him," Francoise replied with a sigh. She had stopped drumming her fingers. After a brief pause, she said very darkly, "Perhaps he actually did go to perish in a crusade."
Belle shuddered slightly. Vincent said nothing. It was quite possible that he would not mourn if the Beast turned up dead. The thought troubled Belle, but she could not blame Vincent for such feelings.
"I daresay he'll return shortly," she said with forced cheeriness. She actually had no idea what the Beast might do – he was entirely unpredictable – but she wanted to buoy Francoise's spirits.
Francoise now gazed at Belle with a somber expression. "I think he privately hoped that you would return," she said.
But Belle had no patience for such words. "He sent me away. I would have stayed, and he knew it, and he still sent me away. Don't try to guilt me into returning. I'm clearly not wanted."
"Francoise is right," Vincent quietly said.
"I don't want to discuss this," Belle replied with a much harder voice. She leaned forward in her chair and looked intently at Francoise. "I love the Beast, and I am terrified to think of where he may be or what he may be suffering. But this is not my fault or my responsibility. Don't tell me otherwise."
Belle's visitors had no response to that. They conversed in low voices for an hour longer. At last, Marie came to the sitting room with an expression that suggested that Francoise and Vincent should be on their way. They obeyed her non-verbal command, and Belle saw them to the door.
The weeks rolled by. Francoise did not come again, but Vincent continued his frequent visits. He and Belle avoided discussing the Beast. They would address any other topic, even going so far as to discuss the town gossip, just so long as they could escape mention of Vincent's tormentor and Belle's source of heartache.
"Are you sure your relationship with that dull man is entirely platonic?" Marie asked one day at the dinner table. She had been entertaining guests for teatime, and was now at table with her husband, her father and Belle. As she spoke, she gazed at Belle with narrowed eyes.
Recently, the sisters had quarreled over Belle's failure to entertain prospective suitors. Remembering this dispute, Belle could not keep herself from rolling her eyes. "I am quite sure," she replied. She continued to pick at the overcooked chicken breast on her plate. Marie really needed to find a new cook.
"He visits rather often," Marie noted. "I don't think he looks very reputable. Neither do the neighbors. They're starting to talk."
"Do not care," Belle said through a mouthful of chicken. She swallowed and continued, "Vincent is a dear friend, and he understands what I was experiencing during my months with the Beast. It is pleasant to talk to him. That is all."
"Would he say the same?" Marie asked, raising an arch eyebrow.
Belle was not one to skirt an issue. If she could endure the humiliation of her final confrontation with the Beast, she figured that she could muscle through any sort of awkwardness. She therefore posed Marie's question to Vincent during his next visit, only several days later. They sat across from one another in the ornate sitting room, sipping tea from Marie's second-best cups - she would never consent to their using her finest.
"Our relationship is platonic, isn't it?"
Vincent looked almost relieved that Belle had asked. "Of course. Yes. Very platonic."
"Should I be offended at your extremely decisive answer?"
Seated across the drawing room from Belle, Vincent laughed. "Don't take it as an insult. I had just started to worry that I could give you the wrong idea by visiting so often. I'm glad I haven't."
Belle frowned and tilted her head to the side in confusion. "Did I seem like I was misinterpreting your intentions? Did I act like it?"
"No. I'm sorry." Vincent hesitated before continuing. "It was nothing that you did or didn't do. I thought that perhaps, since things did not end well with the master, you might consider me… as the next-best option, or as a link to the master." His face reddened as he spoke.
Now it was Belle's turn to laugh. "Well, that is not the case. I wouldn't want to insult you by treating you as a consolation prize. I hope that someday you are someone's first choice." There was a long silence as both parties remembered that fact that Belle had failed miserably in winning over her first choice.
"But you're not pining," Vincent said hopefully. "You said you've been doing charity work?"
"Yes, and helping Laurent with the old home," Belle said, sighing into her cup. "Life is still a blessing. I could do with a little more fire and thunder, but I appreciate what I've been given." She paused before asking, "Speaking of fire and thunder, has the Beast returned?"
Vincent stared sullenly into his teacup. "No, he has not."
As the days rolled past, Belle continued in her daily routine. She did as much charity work as Marie would allow, and ran household errands when possible and seemly. She visited Laurent, helping the poor bachelor maintain the family home and grounds. She kept up with her other siblings, though she had less of a familial bond with them. She entertained no more visits from the Beast's servants, until one night, before dawn had even dreamed of arriving, a wide-eyed Francoise appeared at the door of her home.
"The Beast has returned," the old woman gasped. "You will want to come."
There you have it. Please let me know what you think! We're very close to the end now...