Days had passed and nearly every passing hour the castle thrummed as Madam Bardot's designers bustled about. The woman, insisting that there was not nearly enough time to work her magic, barked orders that echoed around the lower floor like a foghorn. Belle would have retreated from the commotion if not for having to attend so many etiquette and dancing lessons. Each night she collapsed into bed beyond exhausted and with aching feet.
Belle had received many of her dresses from the seamstress, including a special ball gown for the feast. RSVPs arrived in droves, and Belle waited patiently for one from her father. With only the night remaining, she was worried that might not come at all.
The duke seemed unaffected by the chaos at the castle, declining to comment on or decide on the upcoming celebration. Because of this, he kept Cogsworth at a distance as the man seemed to only ever want to discuss the upcoming event.
His reluctance made their meals and conversations almost unbearable. Though a bit hesitant, they did sometimes make small talk and the duke answered some of her questions as long as none pertained to his prior marriage. She had learned rather quickly which topics to avoid, but she couldn't help but wonder why he despised her so much.
She stared at him from across the long dining table, her dinner only half eaten, in fear her nerves would nauseate her. The room was empty except for the two of them, as he had dismissed the servants in need of quiet. The duke ate in silence as he examined a stack of bound parchments. She tried to imagine how the next few decades might look for the two of them, but her thoughts kept returning to their upcoming night following their civil ceremony. She tried to push the worry away and remember why she was marrying the duke. The bride price would pull her family back from poverty. It would give her sisters far better options in life and in marriage. She'd do what she needed to for them.
"Would it be likely to hear from my father tomorrow?" she asked, breaking the silence so abruptly that the duke's eyes flicked to her at once. His brows furrowed as he stared back at her.
"Before the celebration. Is it possible to receive an RSVP on the day of?"
"I've already received your father's response,"
"So he is coming?" Belle asked hopefully.
"He came himself several days ago to inquire about the remaining bride price. He informed Lumiere that he nor his family would be attending," the duke said flatly, turning back to the papers he studied.
Why wouldn't her family attend the celebration? Her father had received a large first portion of the bride price, so money wouldn't have been an issue. And how could he have come to the castle without so much as a word or a note for her and why didn't the duke feel the need to share this with her?
"You could have told me," Belle said, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. The duke watched her with disapproval, but she didn't move them to a more proper placement.
"I am not the keeper of your messages. If you would like someone to be your personal messenger, I'd suggest you speak with Ms. Garder." He again turned toward the papers, and Belle could feel the heat rise in her face. She tried to tamp it down.
"Why do you treat me impudently?" Belle asked, surprised to have found the courage to ask such a bold question. "You speak of obligations, especially mine, but what of yours to me?"
The duke stared fixedly at her for a long moment, placing the parchments down beside him.
"I was under the impression you understood the circumstances in which you were agreeing to."
"And just what have I agreed to?" She nearly faltered beneath his intensity, but managed to keep control of her voice.
"You ask for clarification now? The night before the celebration. Only hours before the officer will arrive." He gave a derisive chuckle that broke the tethers of Belle's anger.
"Given our arrangement," she started calmly staring across at him, unmoving. "I didn't expect you to be my knight in shining armor, but a little gentlemanly behavior isn't too much to ask. I arrive to a home where not only do several of the staff dislike me but also the man meant to be my husband. I'm prohibited from entire floors of what is to be my new home, prohibited from speaking of your mysteriously dead wife." Belle stood suddenly, her face burning and a sting blooming behind her eyes and nose. The duke's eyes grew wide, but she continued despite his furious glare, her voice rising with defiance.
"My father told me YOU were seeking a bride, a companion. I realize that to be a lie, but… I'm just sick! I'm sick of your incivility and sick of being treated like an object."
At this, Belle knew she was on the verge of tears and she stormed away leaving the duke in stunned silence. She felt a frenzy of emotions, too scared to be the duke's wife, too destitute not to be. Furious at his behavior, but feeling embarrassed for expecting anything more. Broken hearted that the father she thought loved and adored her only saw her as a pawn for his status in life. None of it would matter for long. Tomorrow, she'd be married and her sisters would have a far better life. Because of her, they'd be able to be more discriminating of their future mates and that gift alone made her sacrifice worth it.