Belle didn't go down for dinner. Or lunch, for that matter. At tea time, Elizabeth knocked on her door with a tray. Belle halfway wanted to turn the maid away, but she couldn't stay in her room forever and she was sure if she set herself to quietly waste away up there even her new husband would eventually have somebody break the door down and get her. Somehow, the idea of explaining why she didn't want to leave yet felt more exhausting than drinking tea, even with her too-tight skin and how tired she felt, so she had spent the afternoon with the maid.

Belle wasn't sure she ever wanted to leave her room again, because the longer she stayed there the more she would have to explain to everyone when she emerged. She wondered if that would be what drove Rhys away? Perhaps he would finally realize he'd married a mad woman and have her locked in an asylum far away.

She would have to make a point to go down for dinner, at least. She could justify staying in her room all day as being eager to get settled in (even though she'd spent most of the morning laying in bed and staring out a window) but she should go down to dinner. This was her house now, and her husband's son was visiting. The polite thing to do was to spend time getting to know him before he returned to his home in London. The brave thing to do was to go downstairs and put on a smiling face and make this work. Belle was tired of being brave, though. She'd always wanted to be brave, but everything in her was crying out to stay curled up in bed and so she did. She stayed in her dressing gown all day, even when Elizabeth knocked on her door with a tray of dinner and a message from Belle's new husband hoping she would feel better tomorrow.

Belle wasn't really sure she'd ever feel better again.

She didn't feel like leaving her room again the next morning, either. This was becoming ridiculous and she knew it. She could claim a headache or other infirmity gripping hold of her if she just could muster the strength to go downstairs now.

"Good morning," Elizabeth said just a hair too loudly, throwing open the drapes. "Are you feeling better today?"

The maid was eyeing Belle and she thought she heard just a hint of a scold in the girl's voice. Not that Belle didn't understand, of course. She had only left this room for dinner once since she arrived at the house. If their places were reversed Belle was sure she'd be completely gobsmacked at this behavior.

"I think so," Belle said, more out of a desire to actually be okay than any real belief that she was. "Have my husband and son been to breakfast yet?"

"Mr. Neal left early this morning," Elizabeth replied simply.

"What?" Belle exclaimed, practically tripping in her haste to climb out of bed as though she could move fast enough to go back in time and actually see him off. "Drat it all."

She hadn't realized he was leaving so soon. She really, really hadn't. She'd known he was leaving soon, but...oh she was just the worst. She had been married about forty-eight hours and already she'd locked herself in her room for an entire day and missed saying goodbye to her new son. It was unbelievably rude and if Rhys hadn't regretted marrying her already then how could he help but regret it now?

Elizabeth was staring at her with a strange little quirk to her lips that had Belle scowling in her already fowl mood.

"Is something funny?" she snapped.

"No, of course not," Elizabeth said instantly. "But well, if you're going to swear you might as well go all out."

"What?"

"I think it might be a good time for a damn is all," the maid said in a scandalous whisper.

Belle stopped short and blinked for a second. She'd never really sworn before, being a lady and all. It hadn't even occurred to her to do so now, but she couldn't deny that Elizabeth was completely right. So, instead, she burst out laughing.

The situation was just so absurd. She'd locked herself away because of no good reason at all, and now had managed to ruin her last best chance at happiness. So maybe it wasn't too big of a surprise when her giggles turned into deep, hiccuping sobs as she sat back on the bed.

Elizabeth seemed shocked at the change, sitting down next to her instantly with a confused look on her face.

"It's okay," the maid said quickly. "Really, it's not all that bad."

"I've ruined everything," Belle finally managed to get out. "I should have seen him off and I was just so trapped in my own head."

"Mr. Neal always leaves on short notice," Elizabeth replied. "He'll be back in a few weeks, he visits pretty regularly. You'll see him next time."

Belle just shook her head. She didn't have the words to explain why she was so upset, or why she'd been so unable to interact with the household. She was going to have to go out there now, or she was never going to be able to do so.

When she'd finally managed to summon the nerve to make it downstairs, it was almost confusing how smoothly the house was still running. No one paid her any mind at all. It almost would have been easier had the servants all stopped to remind her of what a failure she was as a wife and mother and woman.

She came across Rhys in the hall. He had his head down and was looking over a piece of paper when he almost ran into her. His eyes shot up to her face quickly and he stepped back.

"Oh, Belle," he said. "Are you feeling well?"

"I am," she replied. "Thank you."

"Good," he said earnestly. "That's good. Would you...join me in the drawing room?"

He stood back to give her room to think, room to decline or to precede him into the room. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, honestly. She didn't know if he was angry with her or not, but she knew that one way or the other she was going to have to face him.

Belle was able to hold her head up high even as she walked past him into the drawing room with her nails biting into the flesh of her palms. She'd only seen this room so far when he'd shown her around her first day here. It was a pleasant enough room, a few overstuffed armchairs and a divan. She chose one of the armchairs and sat down. She could do this.

Rhys sat down opposite her, giving her as much space and distance as he could manage.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked her and, when she nodded, he promptly rang for the other maid. They sat in silence until the girl returned with a tray and left them again.

Rhys prepared himself a cup distractedly, staring into the depths of his cup as he stirred.

"Did someone do something that upset you?" he said after a few moments. "Myself or one of the servants, maybe?"

"No," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "Nothing like that. I just...I'm fine now, truly."

He nodded, looking everywhere but at her.

"Is this...does this sort of thing happen frequently?"

"Not really," she said. "I was just very tired."

"Alright," he replied. "It does occur to me though that we never really discussed our new situation."

"We didn't," she agreed. It was the conversation she'd been dreading - the one where he had changed his mind about this entire thing.

"Is there anything I need to know about?" he asked her calmly. "I'd like for you to be happy here, but it's hard to do that if I don't know what will make you uncomfortable."

Belle was completely shocked. Somehow it hadn't even occurred to her that he might ask her for this. Everyone always wanted details. Nobody wanted to seem so uncouth as to ask for the details, but she could always tell. She held her own cup tight in her hands, tracing the floral pattern on the china as though her life depended on it.

But he hadn't asked what happened, had he? He'd asked what upset her. Was that really so different, though? She was already trying not to go back into that library all over again as she sat in that armchair in her new home. She wished again that she could travel back to before she was broken and do everything differently, but she couldn't. She was simply trapped here in this life.

"I don't like couches," she said finally, glancing sidelong at the divan. "Or benches, or chaise lounges."

Belle glanced up at Rhys to see his reaction to this confession. It wasn't something she'd really voiced before, but somehow it seemed the least terrifying of her problems to say to him. He didn't react visibly, just sipped his tea and listened.

"There are certain things I don't like to hear," she continued.

"And what would those be?"

"Good girl," she said as coolly as she could, her mind already running ahead of her and threatening to take her away to a darker place. "My pleasure…"

She set her cup down on the table hard. She couldn't do this, she couldn't talk about it. She just wanted to not have to think about it anymore because it was too much. There was too much to think about.

Belle was trying to get her breathing back under control, but the cup had been too close to the edge and by the time she came back to herself it was too late and it had fallen to the floor.

"Oh, damn," she hissed, scooping it up and checking the edge. "It's...chipped."

He seemed bemused more than anything else, and she realized her language choice hadn't been particularly ladylike. She was a failure and there were already tears of frustration threatening to overwhelm her.

"It's just a cup," he said softly, picking up a spare off the tray and setting it in front of her. "Don't worry yourself about it."

She nodded, trying to settle herself into some state to continue this conversation.

"We can continue this later," he offered. "If you're alright."

"I am," she said as soon as she could trust her voice. "I'm sorry about the cup. And for missing your son. I hadn't realized he'd be leaving so soon."

"Neal had business," Rhys replied with a shrug. "He hadn't decided to leave until last night."

"I hadn't meant to stay locked away," she said. "I just...I couldn't be with people."

"I'm certainly not going to judge you for that," he replied idly. "People can be exhausting."

They could be, but she hated herself for it. She'd always liked being around people before, and now she was trapped in her room for long periods of time and jumping at shadows where there were none. He'd been nothing but solicitous of her and understanding, and she couldn't stop doubting him. Belle wanted to trust her husband - wanted to be able to trust him.

It wasn't beyond her that she couldn't have asked for much more in a marriage than she'd been given, even before all of this. Her husband was patient with her, kind to her, and made absolutely no demands on her. She tried to imagine what life would have been like had she been allowed to choose, truly choose, who she married. Would she have chosen him, if she knew what she did now? Would she have chosen anyone?

She thought she might be able to grow to love Rhys, though. There was a time when that was a luxury she'd never imagined - choosing to love her husband. She loved Gaston the way you loved a brother, because he had been there for her entire life and she had been told to love him. As far as beginnings to a marriage went, it wasn't a bad one. This would be different, though, and she knew it intuitively. If she could grow to love any man, she was sure it would be Rhys. So why did that scare her so very much?