So Belle was to be a bride after all. Her father had taken the news better than she had expected, simply asking her if she were sure after she'd informed him that she'd accepted the proposal. It broke her heart to see him so scared for her, and she didn't want him to be. She wanted him to be happy and hopeful for her future so she'd smiled until her cheeks hurt and said yes, she was very sure and that Mr. Gold had promised not to take her from the neighborhood so she'd be there whenever he wanted to visit. Mr. Gold had promised no such thing, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell her father what he had promised her and she didn't think her future husband would want to take his wife, the fallen woman who jumped at loud noises, into society.
"Alright then," her papa had said, taking a deep breath and bearing up. "If this is what you want then I'll not have anyone looking down on you for it."
He'd spent the rest of the evening locked in his study writing letters announcing the union to their closest friends and family in glowing terms. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he might actually be happy for her.
Her father hadn't been happy for her in months.
It wasn't until that night as she lay in her bed that she was forced to face the hard truth: she was to be a wife. Belle had been scared when he'd proposed, a husband was a man who would own her body, after all. She hadn't quite realized what that meant until this last year, but now she was more than aware of it.
She had been naive before, but she wasn't now. She had no reputation to speak of, and without a husband she would at some point be completely unprotected were she to go out into the world. She knew that Mr. Gold (Rhys, she mentally corrected) had a reputation as a man of his word, and he had promised not to touch her. It had been a risk to accept him, but it would have been a bigger risk not to.
Beyond that, though, he had taken great pains to make her feel comfortable with him and to set her at ease. He'd also been honest with her about the trial. Her father had been lying and Rhys had been honest. She was better now - or, at least better than she had been - and she wanted to be treated like an adult. She wanted to be allowed to run a household again and try to be as normal as possible. Maybe then she could stop having nightmares and go back into libraries.
Gaston came down from the city that week and he and her father locked themselves up in the office for hours that day. He sought Belle out in the garden afterward, hugging her just like old times (hopefully not quite noticing she was stiffer than she used to be in his arms) before falling into step beside her.
"How are you?" he asked sincerely.
"I'm fine," she replied. "Truly, I am."
"You're not…" he looked away from her for a moment, as though unable to face her. "Nobody's pressuring you into anything?"
"No," she said softly, knowing exactly who he meant by nobody. "If anything, he's been more than patient and exceptionally kind."
And he had been. Rhys had called on her properly twice since she accepted his proposal, never staying long enough to overwhelm her and always asking if she'd like to take a stroll. She was growing to like him, which gave her a great deal of hope for their future happiness. She wanted to like him, because the alternative was too awful to contemplate.
Gaston was silent for a few moments, walking alongside her quietly as though it were just like old times and they were still engaged. Suddenly he kicked a stray stone and gave a loud shout that had her jumping back.
"I'm so sorry, Belle," he said angrily, tension radiating off of him. "I should have protected you. I shouldn't have let you go off alone. None of this ever should have happened."
This was uncharted territory for Belle. In the first weeks after, she'd been too upset to really pay attention to him and by the time she was able to come out of that he'd been withdrawn and so had she. It hadn't really occurred to her he might feel guilt about her situation, but she was also entirely at a loss as to how to comfort him. Her heart was fluttering in her chest and she was having a hard time being near him with her every impulse screaming run.
He turned to face her and apparently saw the terror on her face, because he instantly took a step back and held his hands where she could see them, all the anger in him seeming to evaporate into a deep sadness.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I just hate that this happened."
"I'm alright," she lied, still watching him warily. "And it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have gone off alone."
"You didn't even want to accept the invitation to the house party," he replied. "And you didn't do anything wrong. Nottingham's to blame for that. I just...I should have stayed with you and not been playing parlor games while it was all going on. You never liked him and I never knew why."
"There's no changing any of it now," she said at last. "And I'll be married soon, and then we can all put it behind us."
He nodded, as though willing himself to believe she was right.
"Your father wants me to go to America," he said. "He thinks I should find an heiress there and bring her back to marry."
So that's what this was all about, then. He felt guilty about her being hurt and now he felt guilty he had to marry someone else.
"That's a good idea," she replied, trying to sound more sincere than she felt. "Lord knows the estate needs the money."
And that his reputation had been tarnished by his association with her, and that nobody of quality wanted to marry their daughter into a family that had someone of Belle's reputation in it. But soon, she would be Mrs. Gold and could be hidden away from a bride who hadn't known of the whole torrid affair.
"You'll be alright, though?" he asked her. "I worry if I'm away there won't be anyone to stand for you."
"The wedding is in a month," Belle reminded him. "I won't be yours to stand for, Gaston."
She hadn't been his for months, after all. Their engagement had been broken by mutual agreement not long after she was hurt and she had been on her own since.
"You were mine to protect," he replied sadly. "You have been since we were children. I'm sorry I failed you, Belle."
She had nothing to say to that, and eventually he nodded and moved past her into the house. How could she absolve him when she hated absolutely everyone?
Belle had fetched a basket of embroidery from inside and was sitting on the garden bench working on a handkerchief when Rhys found her.
"Lady Belle," he called out while he was still a distance away. "Your father said you were outside."
She looked up, setting her embroidery on the bench next to her and getting to her feet. She was grateful for his interruption.
"Mr. Gold," she greeted him. "I didn't expect to see you today."
"I brought you something," he replied, coming forward slowly. "It just arrived today."
"Did you?"
She didn't like surprises, but if she held herself very still she'd almost seem like she wasn't on edge wouldn't she?
"It's a ring," he said in a rush, reaching into his pocket and removing a jewelry box which he held out to her. "For you."
She reached out and took the box herself, opening it to reveal a beautiful gold and sapphire ring.
"It's beautiful," she said honestly. "Thank you."
"It's nothing," he replied. "Just an engagement token. I wasn't even able to choose it myself, to be honest. I had my son send it."
For some reason, the idea that he would tell her son not just about her but about this engagement hadn't even occurred to Belle.
"May I ask you a question?" she said, taking the ring out of the box and fidgeting with it. "How does your son feel about this?"
His lips were pressed into a thin line and his face took on a somber look.
"I won't say he's pleased," he replied. "But he bears you no ill will."
She didn't know why she was glad to hear that his son wasn't happy about the wedding, but she was. She'd been coddled and sheltered her entire life, but especially these last few months it had gotten to the point where she couldn't trust anything anyone told her as being the truth. At least he was honest with her. He'd been honest about the loans to her father, he'd been honest about his opinion of the trial, and now he was being honest about his son. She didn't have to like what he said to appreciate that he was saying it.
"Does he know about...me?" she asked after a little bit, though she dreaded the answer. "My situation, I mean."
"He does," he replied simply. "He's the one who told me."
"Oh," said, feeling her face flushing with no ability to control it. "I can't say I blame him for being wary, then."
She'd half hoped for a fresh start, but she was a little ashamed now that she'd even dared to dream for that. Of course his son would know of her - everyone knew of her now, and there was no sense in pretending otherwise. God, he must think the worst of her. First she was ruined and now she was marrying a man she barely knew, a man her father owed money to. She must look like she'd seduced Rhys for his money and thrown herself at Nottingham for the title.
"Hey," Rhys said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "It's alright. He's angry at me, not you."
"Why would he be angry at you?"
"He has a business project he's been working on," Rhys explained. "He's in the final stages of finding investors and he's a little worried about the scandal."
She wasn't sure what to say to him. He'd proposed to her knowing this. Of course there would be a scandal to involving himself with her. Why would he do that?
"We can postpone the wedding," she said finally. "Or call it off entirely. I'd hate to cause any tension with your son."
Her reputation was already ruined, really. What could another broken engagement do to it?
"Oh no," he replied easily. "Don't worry about Neal. He'll come around once he's met you and put a face to the name. Anyway, there are always men looking for a reason not to invest in any business. This will just help expedite the process."
She didn't know if she believed him, but then he'd built a business empire before she was born. She was trusting him with her safety, she would learn to trust him with this.
"Do you want to try the ring on?" he asked her. "If it's not to your liking, we can get another one."
She realized she'd been holding it in her clenched fist since she removed it from the box and held it up to the light.
"No, it's lovely," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, it's just a lot to take in. And I've never worn a betrothal ring before."
"Haven't you?"
"I had my mother's to wear for Gaston," she said with a shrug. "But it felt so strange to see it on my hand that I left it in a jewelry box most of the time."
And soon she would see it on the finger of some American girl she'd never met. The thought of it tugged at her heart in ways she hadn't quite expected. She had thought herself beyond being hurt anymore, and her heart was still so raw that even this small injury felt like it could draw blood.
"Here," he said, tucking his cane under his arm and moving towards her slowly. "Let me?"
She handed him the ring and held her hand out. He took it gently and she realized that aside from catching her before she could plummet into the rose bushes and shaking her hand on their engagement, he'd never actually touched her before. It was strange to think that she would be marrying a man who she had such little contact with. She knew intellectually that many marriages had less than this to start, but she'd known Gaston since they were children and now she would marry a veritable stranger instead.
He held her hand gently and she could have pulled it away at any moment if she'd wanted to. She stayed where she was, though. He was smaller than Gaston and smaller than Nottingham and this thought comforted her a little. He didn't tower over her in quite the same way, and there was room to breathe around him. It wasn't quite safety - and she wasn't quite sure she'd ever feel safe again - but it was close kin to that elusive feeling, a sort of shelter in a storm.
He was gentler still as he slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand to rest there.
"And what became of your mother's ring after your engagement broke?" he asked her conversationally. "Still in that jewelry box?"
"No," she said as she shook her head. "It's part of my father's family jewels. They belong to the estate, not to me. The ring will go to Gaston's wife."
"And you'll have nothing of her, then?"
"I have a necklace," she replied. "She brought it with her into the marriage. I never take it off."
"Good," he said. "That's good."
They stood there for a little while with her hand in his and she counted heartbeats to see how long she could remain close to him before she had to pull away. Her blood was rushing in her ears, but her heart hadn't started to pound yet when he dropped her hand and stepped away.
"I'm afraid I must be going," he said softly. "But I'll call on you again tomorrow, if that would be alright."
"I'd like that," she replied. "Until tomorrow, then."
"Until tomorrow, my lady."
She watched him retreat for a little while, not sitting and picking up her embroidery again until he'd rounded the corner of the house. She felt like she had a lot to think about, but her thoughts were buzzing around her head so chaotically that she could make heads nor tails of any of them. All she knew was that when he had said he had to leave she had, for a moment, wished he didn't.