Belle woke as the sun crested the valley beyond her window. Dreams of home plagued her and though her sleep had been fitful, she had slept most of the night. She rubbed her heavy eyes and wondered how long it would take for the civil authority to come. Would she be married within a week? Within days? Her stomach knotted at the thought, but it was a deed that must be done.
"Oh, good. You're already awake," Ms. Garder said, bustling through the door followed by Mrs. Potts who carried a silver tray.
"Am I not to have breakfast in the dining room?" Belle asked as Ms. Garder ushered her from the bed.
"You may, if you insist but we have a rather busy day," the woman said, retrieving the only remaining dress from the wardrobe.
"I don't want to be a bother," Belle said, stepping unsteadily into the ring of lavender silk placed before her. Was the civil authority coming today? Her breath quickened.
"If you need anything, Francine." Mrs. Potts offered, standing over the uncovered tray.
"Thank you, Esme." Ms. Garder gave the woman a satisfied wave and Mrs. Potts left.
"It's not a bother, this is easier is all." She said to Belle, pulling the dress up around her. "Three of the carters have already arrived and Lumiere is in a tizzy. Plus, the duke has suggested you brush up on your etiquette and then dancing—"
"My etiquette?" Belle scoffed as she turned her unlaced back toward her maid. "I was perfectly respectable at dinner. He's the one who needs to learn a few manners."
"Madam, you were late, underdressed, and sopping wet." Ms. Garder paused her lacing and leaned around to look Belle in the face.
"I was perfectly polite though," Belle said, feeling a bit small beneath the woman's glare.
"I'm sure but simple politeness alone will not do you well as a Duchess." Ms. Garder finished, then gestured for Belle to take a moment to eat.
"Where did you get that?" Belle gasped as the woman pulled an elegantly polished silver brush from her apron pocket.
"From a place where you aren't allowed, so don't you go telling anyone about it. My fingers won't likely be able to work any amount of magic on these tangles," she said and set to work.
"Where am I not allowed to be?" Belle gave the woman a side glance.
"The entire upper floor. Has no one told you?"
"No." Belle said around a mouthful of melon.
"And you don't need any etiquette training." Ms. Garder harrumphed, making her belly jiggle against Belle's arm.
"But it's just you." Belle offered with a disconcerted smile. "Why aren't I allowed upstairs?"
Ms. Garder stopped brushing and looked at her sternly. "There is no member of the staff allowed upstairs. The duke doesn't even go to the third story unless some maintenance requires he do so."
Belle fought her growing curiosity. Could the third floor hold the truth of the rumors to the prior duchess' demise? She wondered, filling her mouth languidly as her thoughts began to wander off.
"Don't you get any ideas." Ms. Garder scolded, winding Belle's hair back into a thick braid.
"You went upstairs."
"Yes." She cut Belle off with severity. "And if I'd been caught, It'd been my job and for you, your marriage."
"Yes, mam." Belle sighed as the woman hurried over to the fireplace where her boots had been set to dry.
"Let's finish up now," Ms. Garder said, looking rather dissatisfied with Belle's promise.
As they were leaving her room, several young men topped the narrow set of servant's stairs, crates in hand. One of them looked much like Mrs. Potts and she wondered if that might be Chip, though he was much older than his mother and Lumiere had made him seem.
Nearing the entryway, the din beyond swelled and echoed across the large space. Several carters hurried past them as they descended, and a young woman stood center of the entryway complaining about the rather distasteful griffins. Belle couldn't have agreed more with her sentiment.
"Who is she?" Belle asked as Ms. Garder led her into the sitting room.
"That is Madam Bardot." She answered and gestured for Belle to sit.
"I thought," Belle paused, apparently looking rather confused.
"She's an event planner. Apparently Cogsworth had protested so much about what is expected, that the duke relented to a wedding party. Which is also why you must begin some formal training."
Belle swallowed down a growing lump. "When am I to be married?"
Ms. Garder gave her a sympathetic look and gestured for her to sit. "I don't believe Cogsworth has heard back from the civil authority, but I expect it to be within the week.
Belle nodded, attempting to sound pleased. "Good." She did not sound pleased, but at least her father would be receiving the remainder of her bride price soon. Maybe she'd get to see him when he come to fetch it, she thought.
The two worked for hours, going over and over what was to be Belle's duties within the estate and as a duchess. Discussing again and again proper etiquette when greeting guest and especially the royal family.
"Again." Ms. Garder pressed, and Belle gave a defeated sigh.
"I address them by their title, then name, and their house."
"Very good. We can move on to the dining room. Don't get too excited, it's another lesson." Ms. Garder added with a raised hand as relief crossed Belle's face and she motioned for her to follow.
The dining hall was entirely empty except for the two servants who always gawked and made her feel uncomfortable. She dreaded Ms. Garder's instruction in front of them and could feel her face heat up the moment she sat. Some duchess she was going to be, allowing the two of them to trouble her.
"The feast will be a five course meal and will likely start with socca which you would be able to eat with your fingers," Ms. Garder said before moving on to where she could place her arms, how to drink from her glass, and eventually to the flatware and repeating the correct use of each.
"That seems easy enough," Belle said with very little conviction after reciting the order back as instructed.
"I agree but you're not considering how much effect your nerves will have on you during the dinner party," Ms. Garder said, placing a hand on Belle's shoulder giving her a thin smile.
Belle wished the gesture gave her comfort, but there in front of the servants it only felt like coddling. Her eyes flicked toward the pair as they shared a teasing smile. She expected they had never treated the prior duchess in such a way, but she herself was little more than the lower class they were. Would they ever see her as the lady of the house? Would the duke? She wondered thinking of their dinner together and of his lack of want for a wedding.
"We're finished here," Ms. Garder said, waving over the two girls to collect the trays. "Into the ballroom then." She gestured again for Belle to follow her.
By the time Ms. Garder had allowed Belle to leave, her head felt all jumbled and her feet ached from dancing instructions. She tried to steal away to her room, but several servants milled about, putting away all that the carters had delivered.
She just needed a minute to herself. She thought, slipping back out into the hallway. There was still a bit of time before dinner, and she considered a walk in the garden as she looked out the grand staircase window onto the yard below. Her feet however begged to be free of her boots and she decided instead to find a quiet place to hide. She fought the tears that filled her eyes. She missed her mother and her sisters, her simple life but she couldn't let herself dwell on those things.
"You could certainly ask her." She heard Ms. Garder say to someone from the servant's stairwell and she quickly darted into a door to her right. She simply didn't want to speak another word to anyone else. Slowly she pulled the heavy oak door closed and all sounds beyond quieted to an almost nonexistent mumble. Oh, sweet silence, she thought and drew in a long quivering breath. The near darkness of the circular stairwell engulfed her and she wept, hard and silent. Her shoulders shook in the fading light that filtered in from the embrasure above her.
After a long moment, Belle lowered herself onto the stairs, dried away the tears, and removed her boots and socks. The cold stone felt marvelous against her tortured feet. Rising, she took several steps toward the narrow window, wishing she had taken her book before rushing from the crowded room. She sat again, letting the light fall over her and she leaned back onto the cold wall. She could have slept there, she thought but a scurrying sound above her interrupted the looming respite.
The grand staircase led only to the second floor. This must lead to the third, she thought telling herself she should obey the rules even as she stood and took each ascending step. Her heart pounded as the scurrying grew closer, louder.
What would she say if she was caught? No one ever came up here. That was the rule. She tried to assure herself, but Ms. Garder had come upstairs. Holding her breath, Belle reached the top landing. The heavy door hung roughly by old, unkept hinges. She listened for a long moment. The scurrying followed each time by a gentle squeak. Only a rat.
She pushed the door so achingly slow it could have taken hours to open to the fullest extent. What little light was left of the day spilled in through a massive window and elongated the wood panels stretching them across the landing in morose succession. She attempted to peer into the ill lit space.
The duke didn't seem to be what the rumors had made him out to be. He seemed rather ordinary though a bit rude, but something suggested he might not be a killer, she thought as the doorknob suddenly wrenched from her grip. With a resounding crack at the hinges, it thundered to the floor.
Belle's gasp caught in her throat. What should she do? Should she hide here amongst the cobwebs and the rats or run downstairs in hopes somehow no one had heard? How could she be so foolish? It didn't matter what secrets the room might hold, she thought, and she turned to run. Her eyes filled with blinding tears, her feet slipping in her haste and in a stomach-churning moment her footing was gone. Her boots flew from her hand as she tried uselessly to find purchase among the unforgiving stone. But before her body could make contact with stairs, a hand caught her roughly by one wrist and the other forearm. Without a second to spare, she was upright and staring into the duke's fuming visage.
"You were warned not to enter the third story." The duke bellowed, clutching her roughly. "No one is allowed up here."
All Belle could do though the shuddering sobs was nod and attempt to free herself from his grip. His blazing eyes darting across her face that seemed to soften for only an instant.
"Get out!" He yelled, finally releasing her and she stumbled into the wall managing to catch herself. Wiping away the tears, she hurried down, all the way down and out into the entryway and quickly out onto the courtyard. What was she doing? She was barefoot and without a cloak. She couldn't go running off, she just needed a moment to think to get her thoughts together. What was going to happen now? He'd likely send her back to her father, they'd have to repay the half of the bride price that had already been paid. What were her sister's going to do now? Her father had surely spent a good portion of the money on food and clothes. On all the things that they had been lacking for so long.
She continued stumbling toward the bridge, still sobbing, her stomach in knots. The panic that she'd fought throughout her life to keep at bay won out and the darkness swelled from her periphery. NO! She just had to get control of her breathing, she thought. Stopping and leaning against the wall of the guard towers. Her feet screamed for warmth; her body screamed for air as the darkness took her over and swallowed her up.