Luckily, fate seemed to be in my favor. Not a few minutes after I began walking, a wagon raced by. No doubt it was my search party. The wagon driver saw me walking on the side of the main road and pulled his reluctant horses to a stop. They slid in the mud created from the constant drizzle that surrounded Fourchette. The rain was light and soft, so I was not immediately soaked to the bone. Once the driver was close enough, I realized it was Jacques. He nearly fell out of the seat and ran to me, sliding in the mud in his haste. "Belle! Belle!" he shouted, and when he reached me, he grabbed me into his arms. It felt wrong, but I did not push away. "I can't believe your back! I was so worried. As a matter of fact, I was just about to go on a search for you." He still held me.
"Why did you need a wagon to search for me?" I asked, pushing myself free of his tight embrace to glance at his face. He blushed but did not turn away, as if he wanted to drink in my features. "In case I found you and you were injured, that's why. I'm so glad your here and safe." He led me to the wagon and lifted me into the seat, as if I were a doll. Once I was safely nestled, he jumped in and clucked to the horses and we were off.
I could tell he was very curious to ask me questions. I had no answers to give him, so I was glad his gentlemanly up-bringing stopped him from voicing his curiosity. We rode in silence. I shivered as we sped along. The light rain was beginning to dampen my skirts and hair so they clung to my chilled skin. It seemed to be around midday, since the hint of the sun shone through the dull gray sky. We soon arrived at the entrance of the mansion foregrounds. There was a crowd waiting there. They cheered with relief when Jacques pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the great manor doors. Gallantly, Jacques hurried down then helped me out. I'm sure I looked frightful, dressed in a dirty ballgown. My father pushed through the spectators and crushed me into his chest.
"Bella!" he sighed with relief. In his grateful state, he reverted back to my childhood nickname. I didn't mind. To my surprise, I found that I had missed Charles more then I realized. "Hello, father." I murmured into his shoulder. The crowd was bustling with excited chatter and cheers. Charles regretfully released me and turned to the assorted group of people. "My good people, thank you for coming out to my home. Thankfully, it appears that this search party needn't be assembled, since dear Bellisima has returned to us!"
My father had never been a good public speaker, but in joy he seemed to be another man; laughing and charismatic. "Belle, we must get you inside!" he said maternally once he registered that I was still dressed in a ballgown. The crowd parted for us to walk through. It seemed that the whole town was there. I saw Mme Giry with Meg, who beaming at me. I gave a little wave. I also glimpsed Edward Cullen glaring at the crowd. He looked as icily handsome as ever. Charles continued to talk as he lead me into the manor. I glanced back once to catch a final sight of Jacques, who was charismatically directing the crowds of people. I never gave him my thanks for returning me home.
How good it felt to be back in my room. There was a small fire waiting to greet me once I walked into the reassuring space.
"Ah!" I heard, followed by more excited shrieks. I turned to see Marie approach from the dim corner. "Marie!" I happily sighed and unashamedly hugged my little maid. We both cried our greetings, then Marie noticed the state of my appearance. She quickly helped me out of the burdensome and much soiled ballgown, and into a comfortable nightgown. I slid into my fluffy bed. I'm not sure why I felt exhausted, but my bed had never felt so reassuring. Marie hurried off to fetch me a cup of spiked hot chocolate, which was my favorite drink. I leaned back, and realized that I had truly come to like Fourchette. The constant rain had become the tempo to my life, and the people who lived in the tiny town shaped my happiness. While Angel had taken over my mind, Fourchette had gained a position in my heart. It was very upsetting to think about.
"Mademoiselle!" I looked up to see angry eyes. My breath caught in my throat. Why was he so beautiful? "Yes, monsieur Cullen? I thought we were on a first name basis." It had only been a day since Angel had returned me, but tonight was the debut of La Mort de Lumière and there was no way that I would miss it.
"No, I'm afraid we're not." the aloof composer answered. Sometimes I want to slap him. Then I want to ravish him. Dear Lord, that thought caused me to blush with shame. What about my Angel? Being without him makes his presence seem like a dream, like he wasn't real. And what of Jacques? There are simply too many wonderful, beautiful men in my life.
"Mademoiselle Dawier?" I realized a few moments had gone by while I had been dreamily thinking. Quickly I made up a saucy reply. "I'm quite offended, Edward. I felt we were closer! You are such a divine composer, after all. I expect you to call me Belle, and I shan't respond to Mademoiselle again." My mind flashed back to a day when a raging tempest had taken to the skies, and he and I had shared breathless moment of passion. "As you wish, Belle." he growled. God, what a marvelous voice he has. I smiled softly, then left for my dressing room. My costume was pretty, but Rosalie was definitely going to upstage me. I was quite content with my silky blue eighteenth-century style gown though, and happily let the costume mistresses arrange my powdered wig. Once they decreed me as ready for the stage, I vainly preened in front of the looking glass. The baby blue of the silk did wonders for my chalky skin (they had powdered it as well) and my silvery green eyes really contrasted from it. I had already warmed up, but I did a few more vocal exercises to stay prepared. Then I went to wait at my entrance on the left of the stage. I wasn't nervous in any way. No, in fact, I was quite ready for Fourchette's humble upper class society to see me where I truly belonged. I was born to sing on this vast, glittering stage. I saw Edward approach me. The curtain was due to rise soon, the haunting overture had just begun. "Shouldn't you be out there?" I asked.
"Yes," he admitted. "I...I wanted to ask you something. I know you were...erhm." he awkwardly paused, then finished, "abducted. Please, for my peace of mind, tell me this – did the man wear a mask?"
"What?" I gasped. Edward looked seriously into my eyes. "Why do you ask?" He only continued to quietly stare at me, his eyes searching and dark. "He was...But I can't talk of this now! Edward, what is the meaning of this?" I reached out and grabbed his porcelain hand. Surprisingly, he let me keep it clutched between my own gloved fingers. Even through the lace and silk of my costume gloves I could feel how cold he was. "Meet me during the Entr'acte. It's very important. Promise me, Belle."
I was overwhelmed. Only a few hours before, he had been his usual cold and distant self. Now he allowed me to touch him, and he desperately wanted to talk to me. My pride wanted me to reject him, but my obsessive curiosity over Angel, and over Edward himself got the best of me. "I promise," I breathed. Edward offered a small smile, then elegantly pulled his hand from mine. Instead of being hurtful, though, he picked up my discarded hand and placed a cool kiss over it. My breath caught in my throat. Then he was magically away from me. Edward turned back and whispered, "Make me proud tonight." Then he was gone and I was left waiting. A few more moments until I was upon the center stage, singing and glowing in the candlelight. A few more minutes until my life was drastically changed.
I sang like my life had depended on it. The notes poured out of my as powerful as the summer rain and my contained a clarity I had never known. I was lost in the choreography, the acting, but most of all – the music. I triumphantly basked in the stares from the gawking audience. The Entr'acte came too soon. While I was terribly excited for my death scene, I wanted the night to last forever. After the last notes rang out, I left the stage and hurried to my cramped dressing room. Edward would seek me out, and I had to get changed into my most elaborate costume. Quickly my seamstress/ helper or what not unfastened my gown and I slipped into my dressing gown. My wig was re-powdered while I sipped some cool water. My helper began to chat with me but was interrupted with an impatient knock upon the door. "Come in!" I chirped. I was a performer after all, and performers were always seen in their dressing gowns! Even so, my training as a society girl couldn't let my blush go unnoticed. Edward strode into the small space, tossed a small bouquet onto my dressing table, then shot a poignant look to my helper. I really must find out her name...Stammering out a reply, the poor homely woman quickly cast a longing look at Edward then left us alone. Did she think he was my lover? Imagine that...
"The opera is going wonderfully, don't you think?" I dreamily murmured and rose from my chair. Edward impatiently nodded then looked at me. I recalled the last time I had his complete attention, and couldn't help but shiver with a scandalized delight. Seductively, I stretched and let the lace of my dressing gown play over my body. He continued to watch me. Giving a pleased smile, I whispered, "What do you know of the masked man?" Edward immediately broke from his trance and stiffened.
"Tell me what you know first," he briskly replied. I gave a small laugh, and my play at temptress fell away. "Edward, can't you ever resist being rude?" I playfully asked. He turned his head away from me and I could see the tense muscles in his neck. The sight of such finely shaped tendons reminded me of when he rescued me during that horrible rainstorm. It had been sheer strength and speed that had saved my life...Inhuman strength... A sudden realization hit me.
"You're like him!" I gasped. Edward immediately spun around to face me. "What?" he barked. My thoughts were tangled and slow, but were managing to piece themselves together. Quickly, I strode over to him and brought my hand up to his face. I let my fingers trail over his features. He didn't seem to breath. "The cold skin..." I stepped closer to him and inhaled the heady scent. "The enchanting smell..." Edward closed his eyes as if he were in pain. "Belle," he rasped and halfheartedly tried to turn away from me. "The intoxicating voice..." I whispered. I craned my head up to his. Our lips were close enough to brush against each other as I murmured, "The seductive aura..." Edward suddenly came to life, and flew past me. He was on the other side of the room before I could blink. His action, which normally would have frustrated me and confused me in equal parts, merely made me laugh. "The speed! Edward Cullen, you and the masked man are the same sort of creature."