Rhys didn't sleep much the rest of that night. He thought he might have dozed a few times, but he was so scared of Belle waking back up that he couldn't relax again;even if he could have, she was so soft and tucked against him so tightly that he didn't want to for fear that he'd wake back up to find it had been a dream. It had been a long time since a woman had slept with her head on his chest like that, or since anyone had trusted him so fully with themselves - if indeed, anyone ever had. He didn't think his first wife had ever truly needed him, and in the beginning that had been what had attracted him to her. She seemed to know her way and when he'd not known his he had liked that. It turned out her way had been away from him, but his son had come from it and that was a good enough reason to have married her. Being married this time was an entirely different feeling than that. Belle needed him, or at least his protection, and she was willing to rely on him for that. It was an odd sensation, being needed, and he liked it.
By the time morning finally dawned, he had a plan forming, although he wasn't sure how Belle would feel about it. She'd shown him her heart last night, and he finally realized how intensely she still felt the pain of what had happened to her. It wasn't just about what had been done to her, but also what hadn't. Nobody had stood by her, nobody had truly been able to protect her, and she certainly hadn't been able to protect herself. If he could only give her one thing, he thought that this might be the one thing she would really need - a way to keep herself safe.
There was really only so much that could be done for Belle, but he would do what he could, and he had every intention of doing so as soon as they were out of bed. There wasn't long to wait. The puppy had started to stir at first light and was currently wriggling and snuggling next to Belle, rousing his wife from her sleep. She yawned a little and looked up at him sleepily before pulling away to acknowledge the puppy who was thrilled to crawl onto her chest and begin licking and kissing her face. Belle smiled widely before moving up into a sitting position. She seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at him again, and he missed her cautious trust from the night before.
"Good morning," he said at last, turning away so she wouldn't feel like he was staring at her. "Did you sleep well?"
"I did," she replied. "I hope I didn't keep you up."
"No, no," he fibbed, because she had kept him up but he hadn't minded at all. "I was very comfortable."
That part wasn't a lie. He'd been very comfortable with her there - if anything he'd been too comfortable to sleep since he didn't want to miss a single moment of her time. Belle smiled sweetly at that, but turned her attention back to the puppy who was starting to whine and was bouncing a bit.
"Uh-oh," Belle said in a sweet little sing-song voice. "Do you need to go outside?"
At the mention of the word 'outside' Rose started hopping and spinning and Belle quickly climbed out of bed. Rhys followed her, watching as she donned her dressing gown as Rose careened toward the bedroom door. Belle was in a little bit of a blur trying to get to the door to let the puppy out of her room, but paused with her hand on the knob.
"Will you come back to bed tonight?" she asked him.
"Of course," he replied, shrugging on his own dressing gown and preparing to walk down the hall to his bedchamber to prepare for the day. "Anything you'd like, my dear."
"I would like you to come back," she said. "I think I sleep better when you're here."
With that, she was out the door and down the stairs with the dog. He lingered a moment longer, just drinking in her presence for the few more moments he could before retreating to his own space.
There was a lot to think about that day. He received a letter from his son asking to come visit, and his first instinct was to immediately send a reply back accepting, because of course Neal was always welcomed to come. It was entirely out of character for his son to not simply show up on his doorstep and make himself at home. But that had been before, and Belle was there now. Neal was taking steps to make sure that she was comfortable, and Rhys would do the same. He didn't really think that she would have any objections, but then the last time she had met Neal it hadn't really gone so well and had resulted in her spending two straight days in bed.
Rhys set his son's letter aside until after he had a chance to talk to his wife. Instead, he penned a letter to his attorney in London asking him to look into a few things for him. There was a thought that had been brewing in his head all night, triggered by Belle's breakdown but the result of months of information he had acquired. He knew that Nottingham was a spendthrift who liked to gamble, and he knew that the vast majority of the landed gentry were in dire financial straits. He had no special knowledge of the man's finances beyond that, but he could make an educated guess that there was a vulnerability there that he could exploit if he was careful enough to do what he needed without anyone noticing. He would just require a bit of information first and he could start putting his plan into action.
Belle didn't like people touching her hair as a rule. Ever since the incident, it was difficult for her to be touched period, but something about having someone else brush her hair and set it while she sat there completely still...she hadn't been able to do it. Instead, she would put her hair into a simple bun in the morning and braid it herself in the evening. Now, though, she wanted to do something new. She'd been married a few months now, and Rhys had never seen her with anything else.
She was sitting watching poor little Grace trying to correct Lizzie's jagged cuts on the nightgown project as the two teased each other gently and suddenly she needed to try something else.
"Lizzie?" she said, waiting until the maid looked at her before continuing. "Are you able to set hair?"
"A little," the girl replied. "Jefferson insisted I at least learn the basics before you came. Some of it stuck, I guess."
Belle could just imagine Astrid sitting for Lizzie under Jefferson's watchful eye until the poor girl got it right, and something about the image made her smile.
"I want to do something else with my hair," she said. "What do you think?"
"There are some magazines downstairs with pictures," Lizzie said. "Should I get them?"
Belle nodded and Lizzie left quickly before returning with the promised pictures. Grace joined them as well and the three began pouring over the various pages in search of something for Belle to do to her hair.
Without having curled it the night before, her options were limited, but Grace found a spread of a new style currently in vogue in America that involved loose waves piled on top of her head. It was a soft and lovely style, miles from what Belle was used to wearing.
They rapidly decided that this would be above Lizzie's capabilities, so Grace was sent to fetch a local villager's daughter who apparently had some skill with hair. By the time Rachel Sells arrived, Belle's hair was in a proper bird's nest, but thankfully not beyond repair. An hour or so later, the girl left with a decent compensation for her efforts and Belle had her hair set in a style that Lizzie was fairly certain could be replicated for daily wear.
It was amazing for Belle to see. The softness of the style suited her, and though she'd be entirely out of place back in London, here in the country house she could be whomever she wanted to be with nobody to judge her for it. Of course, why did she care if they judged her in London? The thought just about knocked the breath out of her, but luckily Grace and Lizzie had gone back to sewing lessons, so Belle was left with her embroidery and her sudden realization that she didn't care what London thought anymore. They had no sway over her. She could stay happily in the country with her husband for the rest of her life, and it would make no difference. Rhys didn't run the company anymore, and he had money enough for the two of them to be quite comfortable. As long as her actions didn't affect Neal...it didn't matter how she wore her hair. They would hate her regardless.
She almost started giggling from the sheer relief she felt at that moment. She'd already been judged to be fallen, the worst thing a woman could possibly be. She had been ruined, and yet she'd married anyway. Maybe not as well as could have been hoped, but she was happy enough where she was. Let them judge her! Let the whole world fall down around their ears and let them judge her. She had no fear anymore. The worst had happened, and she had come through it in one piece. She wouldn't say that what had happened to her made her stronger, but the last year had shown her that she could be strong in a way that had never been available to her before. Nottingham had tried to ruin her, to break her down into little pieces he could consume, and yet here she was on the other side of it entirely outside his domain and happy. She still had nightmares, and it was still a blight inside of her that she wasn't sure she'd ever shed, but the nightmares came less frequently and the darkness wasn't so unbearable anymore. Who would have thought she ever would have become this?
The biggest test of her new hairstyle came at dinner, when she saw her husband again. He'd been holed up in his study all day, and she generally didn't like to interrupt him when he was in there. The awestruck look on his face when she joined him made the entire thing worth while, though. She just hoped Lizzie could remember how to do it in the morning, though she supposed Grace probably wouldn't mind being practiced on. The little girl wasn't truly an employee of the house; she mostly kept Belle company for lack of anything else to do while her father was otherwise occupied. It was a good arrangement for everyone, because Lizzie needed the help with sewing and Grace got to spend more time with her father than she had in the past. Besides, Belle liked having the little girl around as a companion.
"How was your day?" Rhys asked her over soup.
He was looking at her quizzically, like he'd figured out there was something different about her but wasn't sure what it was or if he should say anything. It was almost adorable, and part of her wanted to help him, but she couldn't quite figure out how to draw more attention to her head than he was already paying it. Maybe she'd just give him a little test.
"It was good," she replied. "One of the neighbor girls came over to help Lizzie learn some new things with hair."
She saw his eyes get wider for a split second, he had clearly had no idea what she'd done different.
"I like it," he said too fast to have really thought about it before seeming to gather himself a bit. "It suits you very well. She did a lovely job."
"I'll be sure to tell her you like it," Belle replied. "But to be honest, one of the neighbors came and did this."
"Oh," he said simply, looking at her appraisingly again. "Well, then send her my compliments as well."
She smiled at him as flirtatiously as she knew how, and they returned to their meals. He did seem to like the new hair style, and frankly she loved just how different it made her look than the person she had been when her hair had been curled and pinned into styles that showed she could afford a maid to do everything for her and had no need to do anything but be ornamental. Hairstyles that had been curled tight and pinned in piles at the top of her head and that had taken hours daily to achieve. This was the first thing she had really chosen for herself with no input from friends and helpful matrons who took pity on the poor motherless girl only to lament her poor upbringing at the hands of a single father the moment she'd been ruined.
"Neal wrote a letter," Rhys said after a few minutes. "He'd like to come visit for a bit."
"Oh good," she said. "When is he coming?"
"I haven't responded yet," he replied. "I thought I'd ask you about it first."
"We don't have any plans," she said, shrugging a little. "At least, that I know of."
He looked a little shamefaced, and she knew what he'd meant. The last time Neal had visited had been their wedding, and she'd spent the following two days in her bedroom. She was better now, though, wasn't she? Ever since then, she'd been able to at least make it to the library every day no matter how awful she felt, and once she got Rose she'd made a point of taking the dog out first thing in the morning and last thing at night all by herself no matter what happened. She was sharing a bed with her husband (in the literal sense, anyway), and they'd kissed a few times. There was no reason to think that she couldn't handle Neal being around anymore. She was doing okay.
"Tell him to visit," she continued. "I'd like to see him again."
"I will," he replied. "I'll write him after dinner to let him know it's all right."
"Good," she said, bracing herself up. "Very good."
She wasn't quite sure why her mind was suddenly on edge and active. She was better. She was getting better. She recited the words like a mantra to herself throughout dinner, making pleasant conversation throughout. Because she was better. She was better and they were closer.
After dinner, Rhys excused himself back to the study to write to Neal and Belle set herself to pacing in her library with Rose. The puppy always thought this was a little bit of a game and would prance back and forth in front of Belle and nip at her skirts a little, which sometimes helped break her out of her mood when it was particularly bad.
Rhys had been so sweet to take her feelings into consideration, and she knew she shouldn't be upset about it. It was a legitimate concern that she might have an issue with Neal being around unexpectedly, and the fact that both of them had apparently seen fit to make arrangements so that she could be comfortable was so wonderful of them. But she was keeping him away from his son, because he didn't necessarily trust her to be able to be around Neal.
But she was so much better now. She finally caved to Rose's bouncing enthusiasm and sat down in one of the armchairs, picking up a little rag ball that she'd made for the puppy and tossing it to be retrieved. They played the little game for a few more minutes before the dog finally came and hopped up on the seat with her. Rose loved her, at least. Rose hadn't ever been disappointed by her. Rose was so, so simple and everyone else was so very difficult.
By the time Rhys finally came to her room that night, Belle had long since made her plan. She was tired of being fragile and of being treated with kid gloves and she was going to take matters into her own hands to sort it out. Her resolve was only strengthened when she saw his shy smile. This was the right thing to do and more than that, it was what she wanted to do.
It wasn't frightening to be in bed with him anymore, which was a sign she was doing the right thing. She knew he enjoyed the touches of her hand in his, he had held her while she spilled her deepest secrets, and she hoped that he'd accept more now.
They had climbed into her bed again, and she curled herself into his side as she had done the night before. He seemed a little startled at first, but quickly relaxed and put his arms around her again. He was warm and felt comfortable and safe, and she strained up a bit to press a kiss to his lips. He froze, but didn't pull away as she kissed him so she kissed him harder, hoping he'd take her hint. He didn't seem to, so she put her hand on his chest and tried touching him seductively but she didn't truly know how to do that. Ladies weren't supposed to know how to seduce a man, and no matter what else Belle had become, she had been raised a lady. She didn't know what to do.
"Belle?" he whispered her name curiously, pulling away just a little.
"Yes?" she replied, following him as he recoiled.
"What are you doing?" he asked her.
In response, she slid her hand down his body towards his groin. She'd never touched a man there before, and she hadn't quite known what to expect. What she had not expected was him to pull back completely at that point.
"You don't have to do that," he said hoarsely. "Really, I don't expect anything like that. At all."
"I want to," she replied as earnestly as she could. "I really do. Please?"
"You don't know what you're asking for," he said.
"I do," she said, trying very hard to make him want her. "I promise you, I do. Please."
He whimpered, and she took the opportunity to press into him again. He seemed to accept her reasoning, at last. He kissed her back, sliding his tongue along her lips in a way she'd never known to try. That was nice, and it sent a strangely pleasant warmth through her. She liked that part - liked the way she felt when he did that. She was okay. She could do this. He kissed her for a long time, and she was actually pretty proud of how well she was doing. She took his hand in her and squeezed it, letting him know she was still okay. His lips trailed down her neck a little bit, and she did like that. It was soft and comforting, but he was always comforting. She was safe, he was here. It was okay.
After he kissed her for a little longer, she was fairly sure he was ready to start. Summoning all her bravery, she leaned herself backwards and he followed her until he was leaning over her. Almost immediately once he was over her, she felt panic begin to rise in her chest and she forced it down. It was okay. She had wanted this. He touched the side of her face so gently, though, and she didn't know why but all of a sudden she couldn't breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on her chest even though Rhys wasn't resting any of his weight on her and she couldn't focus on anything even when she tried.
Belle tried to fight down the panic, but it crashed over her in a wave. She started hyperventilating and her vision began to narrow as she struggled to remain calm. To his credit, Rhys recognized her distress almost instantly and was off her before she could find her voice to tell him to stop (if she even would have been able to, because suddenly her throat seemed to close). She sat up and threw off the blankets, taking deep gasping breaths until the moment passed enough for her to breathe again. It took her a long time before she felt like she was alive again and even when the spell passed she almost wished it had lasted longer because she was left curled up in a ball on the bed with a husband who was looking at her as though she'd grown a second head and the knowledge that she'd just made a complete fool of herself.
Rhys was terrified to even touch her. He shouldn't have gone along with what she'd asked in the first place. He knew better, dammit. He knew what she'd been through and he went along with it anyway and oh God she was going to hate him for it. Belle was currently sitting with her head on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs and shaking violently. She seemed to be breathing better now, but she hadn't looked at him since the attack started. He'd made a terrible mistake, and he had no idea how to go about fixing it.
"Are you all right?" he said after a long moment, still not daring to touch her. "Do you need anything?"
She shook her head no and he wasn't sure if she didn't need anything or if something was seriously wrong, but thankfully she spoke.
"I'm fine," she said in a voice that was anything but fine. "I just need to be alone for a little while."
"Right," he replied, hoping he didn't sound too hurt. "I'll just…go, then."
"Okay," she said, nodding a little bit and still not looking up at him.
He hated to leave her like that, but if she wanted to be alone it was really the best he could do for her. He wouldn't force her into his company, and he certainly wouldn't force anything else on her. He got out of the bed as quietly as he could and put on his dressing gown. The only other thing he did before leaving her bedchamber was to fetch the puppy off her pillow and deposit her in the bed next to Belle. Rose immediately went to her mistress, curling up next to her and putting her head in Belle's lap. He saw Belle take one of her hands off her knees and absently scratch the back of the dog's neck. That was good. Belle would be okay. He just had to leave her alone.
It was a long walk back to his bedchamber alone, and by the time he got there he wasn't tired. He was exhausted, but there was no way he was going to sleep - his nerves were completely on edge and he could hardly decide what he he was doing anymore. He had brought Belle into his home in the hopes of saving her from a husband who would make demands and treat her poorly, and in his effort to protect her he had ended up hurting her anyway. He was a terrible man, and a terrible husband.
Rhys didn't sleep that night, and he didn't see Belle the next morning. He was fairly certain she was trying to avoid him, and he didn't blame her after what he'd done. If experience was any indicator, she would probably spend the rest of the day (at least) locked in her room unless the dog needed to go outside. It was possible that she would just send Grace or Elizabeth outside with the puppy, but just in case he would lock himself in his study so she could wander without fear of seeing him.
He managed to keep this up until supper time, when it was far too late to continue to pretend like nothing was wrong. Either he had to face her, or he had to let everyone know something strange was going on between the master and mistress of the house. The latter option was only marginally more preferable, but he wasn't really looking forward to either. Belle would need space, and he would give it to her. That, of course, left him with the unfortunate task of telling Jefferson that he wouldn't be going to dinner.
"What do you mean you're eating in your room?" the younger man exclaimed, holding a dinner jacket out. "You've never eaten upstairs since I've known you."
"There's a first time for everything," Rhys grumbled, settling further down in his chair out of spite. "I don't feel up to it tonight."
"And what am I supposed to tell your wife?" Jefferson replied sharply.
It was a low blow and they both knew it.
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Rhys snapped. "It's what I pay you for."
Jefferson levelled a glare at his employer that said he wasn't happy at all with what he was being told to do, but Rhys couldn't care right now. He would spare her seeing him and pretending to be happy after what he'd done. He owed her at least that much. He had promised to be a good husband to her, he had failed in it, and he wasn't even sure how to come back from that.
The news that her husband wouldn't be joining her for dinner was a bitter disappointment, but not entirely unexpected. She wouldn't have really wanted to face her after what had happened either. She should have known better than to push too hard. He'd gone along with her, and she'd taken advantage of his indulgence of her. She ended up taking dinner upstairs as well, unable to face an empty table across from her.
She'd failed again. She'd warned him that she didn't think she could ever be a wife, but she'd hoped against hope that she could do it someday. She'd been so much better the last few weeks, and now she'd tried and she'd failed. If she was ever going to have been able to make it work, it should have been then. It wasn't just the fact that she hadn't been able to let him go through with it that bothered her. She'd proven she wasn't prepared to be a wife, but also it meant she was never going to be a mother.
Belle had never really put much thought into children. It had been taken for granted that she and Gaston would have heirs and she had accepted that. Women of her social class were bred to be mothers and it had been expected of her from the time she was born. But if she couldn't let Rhys touch her then she wasn't going to have any children, and it was just another part of her identity that had been stripped from her by that awful half-hour almost a year ago. She had been meant to be a Lady, she'd been meant to be Gaston's wife, and she'd been meant to be a mother. Now she would be none of those things and she hadn't really been prepared for the emptiness she felt at that revelation.
She wasn't even sure if Rhys wanted more children - he'd implied he hadn't been interested in them before they got married but in her experience men always wanted children, so maybe he just didn't want children with her? It made sense in a strange way. He seemed fond enough of her, but she'd practically had to beg him to touch her and now he had pulled away again. None of it made any sense, really. She wished for the millionth time she'd had a mother or at least some other woman in her life who would have been able to look out for Belle's best interest, a grandmother or an aunt, perhaps. But no, everyone who might have cared about her had always been a man and she had no idea how to be a wife even under the best of circumstances, which were most certainly not the circumstances she now found herself in.
Maybe it was for the best that she'd never be a mother. She'd never had a mother, so how could she possibly be one now? She was sad, and she was broken, and she'd been ruined. It was for the best that there would be no children to suffer under her failures and her reputation.
Rhys didn't come to her bed that night, though she honestly hadn't expected him to. So she braided her hair and put on her plainest nightgown and failed utterly to get any sleep. She lay awake, tossing and turning and wondering when she'd become so dependent on him that now it felt strange to be by herself in bed. She should get up and do some embroidery, but she was so sick of embroidery it was killing her. Ever since Rhys had begun sleeping in her bed, there had at least been a goal to the embroidery - to add ribbons and flowers and silly little things to her nightclothes, to make them prettier because he was seeing them. Now, though, it seemed like a hopeless goal. Nobody but her was going to see any of them ever again.
Finally, she gave up and left her bed in order to go to the library to get her book. She'd been working her way through the box Indian texts Rhys had purchased for her at the bookshop, and she had chosen one that turned out to be a book of myths, only to leave it sitting on an end table. Rose had gotten used to sleeping through the night while Belle had been sharing her bed with her husband (another little reminder of how poorly done this had all been) and barely stirred when Belle crept past her on the way from her room. At least the puppy's routine was allowed to remain intact.
The library was dark, but it was hers. At least this one fear had been conquered, even if none of the others had been. If nothing else, Belle had books to keep her company when she had neither husband nor children, and the books would never leave her, cloistered as she was among them. She finished her book at dawn's first light and grabbed the next one to hide in her bedroom with. There was no way she was prepared to face anyone now, and she was especially afraid of letting anyone know how badly she was doing and how far she'd fallen in a day.