Chapter 2
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Darkness.
An overwhelming, mind-clouding and threatening darkness greeted her through the large windows of her spacious room when she looked out, trying to detect the glistering stars in the night sky. But no matter how much she tried, the infinite darkness that was only at some places punctuated with thick clouds of shiny white fog patches didn't allow her a glance at the beauty of the night's firmament. The castle was quiet, a distant howl of a lonely wolf the only sound that would reach her ear. A slight shiver ran down her spine, and out of instinct, she tightened her arms around her small form, still looking outside. Jefferson had led her to her chambers earlier, a spacious well-decorated room with walls of a dark red color and containing everything a woman could ever wish for. It was elegant, luxurious, and even the dark, wooden closet had already been filled with the dresses she had travelled with to Scotland. But what gained her attention at once was the golden, large full-length wall mirror in her room – truly a woman's dream. It was mesmerizing not only by size, but by beauty as well, the frame richly ornamented with glistering and sparkling rhinestones that were dancing cheerfully to the candles' illuminated flames. But then again, more than once had Belle thought to see a shadow flashing over the smooth, crystalline surface, having Belle made jump more than once.
Belle let out a long, exhausted sigh and buried her beautiful face into her hands. She was being just as ridiculous as Gaston – and very like only imagining things. But why did this cloud of doubt continue to envelop her rapidly beating heart then?
A sudden double knock on the door made her wince and interrupted her current state of uneasiness.
"Miss Belle?" she heard Jefferson's cheerful voice break through her cloudy mind.
It took a moment or two before she answered.
"Please come in, Jefferson." she answered with a slightly hoarse voice, probably due to the lack of use since she had awoken earlier.
She straightened the practically nonexistent wrinkles in her skirt, ready to receive the guest to her room properly.
The heavy oaken door opened, accompanied by a creaking sound that made her hair stay on end, but she did her best not to show when Jefferson finally appeared.
"A lovely evening, isn't it Miss Belle?" he greeted her with a broad grin on his face as he bowed his head slightly. "I hope you rested well?"
Belle returned his smile and nodded.
"It was quite refreshing, thank you Jefferson." she replied, but the shiver in her voice must have given her away.
The young servant cocked his head and eyed the beauty in front of him for a mesmerizing moment.
"Is something troubling you, mylady?" he finally asked, a wrinkle of concern forming on his pale forehead.
"Oh no." Belle answered immediately, not wanting to share her foolish womanly fears with him.
But Jefferson just stared at her, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers as if he was able to look straight into her soul.
"I'm not too fond of the darkness, I guess." she then admitted with a sheepish smile on her face, not knowing why she had suddenly voiced her fears aloud.
The corners of Jefferson's lips twitched slightly upwards, making Belle feel like a stupid little girl in an instant.
"Excuse me." she therefore added hastily, a small blush of a light pink color illuminating her pale cheeks, and she swirled her hand through the air as if she wanted to dispel her previous confession. "I must sound like a puerile and silly goose to you."
"Oh don't worry, Miss Belle." Jefferson reassured and offered the young lady in front of him a sympathetic smile. "It lies in human nature to be afraid of the darkness – the human body not prepared and too fragile to enjoy and understand the beauty of this endless moment."
Belle stared at him for some moments of silence, studying the young man's face closely.
"You speak as if you are not like most humans?" she said gently with a small smile on her lips and moved her body to the middle of the spacious room – further away from the dark window, closer to the burning candle standing on der nightstand.
The young servant let out an amused, low chuckle and shook his head slightly.
"Well, I guess I'm indeed not, Miss Belle." he admitted with a strange twinkle in his eyes, Belle was not quite able to place and an almost mischievous expression she could not quite understand.
Belle didn't reply, waiting for him to clarify his statement, but the explanation never came. Instead, the mischievous glimmer on his face vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and was replaced by a rather serious one.
"But the actual reason why I have come to see you is something entirely different, Maylady." he told her with another slight bow of his body. "My master instructed me to inform you that dinner will be served in a couple of minutes and he would be delighted to call you his guest this evening."
Belle offered him a genuine smile, hoping that the excitement to meet this mysterious Count Gold wouldn't be too apparent on her face.
"It would be my pleasure to have dinner with Count Gold." the young woman therefore replied politely, trying to keep the excited tone in her voice at bay.
If even possible, the grin across Jefferson's face broadened even more and he clapped his pale hands elegantly in front of his body.
"Excellent." he chirped and opened the door of her chambers. "Then please give me the pleasure to escort you to the Great Dining Room, Miss Belle. The castle can be a rather…" he let out an amused laugh that made her heart beat faster against her rib-cage. "… dangerous place to roam."
"I guess that's because one might easily become lost in the darkness of the large corridors?" Belle asked with furrowed brows, not able to guess what else Jefferson could be referring to.
A toothy grin appeared on Jefferson's face, revealing several pearly white teeth.
"Of course." was is simple but at the same time rather unsatisfying reply.
Before Belle could ask anything else, he elegantly stretched out one arm, pointing at the darkness of the corridor that was lying beyond Belle's chambers.
"Shall we?" he asked with a smooth voice, but Belle noticed the slight hint of impatience that was lingering in his bright blue eyes.
Belle hesitated for a moment and bit her lower lip – a nervous habit she had acquired when she had been a young girl long ago.
"And Gaston…" she asked with a slight tremor in her voice. "Will he…?"
But before she was able to voice another word, she was immediately interrupted by Jefferson's strangely sharp reply.
"Your charming fiancé is already waiting for you to arrive, Mylady." he said. "The master requested to meet both of you tonight."
The slight feeling of relief washed through her veins as she heard that her fiancé would attend the dinner as well. Since Jefferson had showed them to their rooms, she hadn't seen Gaston. And despite her thirst for adventure and her desperate fight for being master of her own mind and decisions, his presence and declared intention to protect her made her feel safe and secure, and was able to turn the fluttering hummingbird in her chest back into a normal beating heart.
She took in a deep breath before answering.
"Fine then." the petite brunette finally declared with a sweet smile on her lips, and checked her reflection one last time in the golden full-length wall mirror. "I only hope I'll be able to conform to etiquette."
When she walked past Jefferson who was still holding the door open for her, he closed his eyes for the slightest of moments and took in a deep breath.
"Believe me dear." he chuckled as he closed the door behind them, a certain gleam of darkness appearing within his eyes as he opened them again. "The master will be more than pleased."
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"Belle!" Gaston called out when his fiancée entered the spacious Dining Hall through the arched black double door that was richly ornamented with elegant, golden details on either side.
With no more than four large steps he was right next to her, and pulled her small form almost possessively against his own as if they hadn't seen each other for years.
A small gasp escaped her lips as he even dared to place a gentle, short kiss on her lips – his behavior so uncharacteristic from what she was used to from back in New York.
"Have you slept well, Gaston?" she asked with a genuine smile on her lips as she looked up to meet his gaze.
Gaston let out a short, contemptuous laugh and loosened his grip around her body.
"Hardly." he huffed and turned his head to look at Jefferson who was watching the scene in front of him with a silent, grim expression on his face.
"How could I when my chambers are miles away from yours?" he growled. "I was not able to get a wink of sleep because I was too worried about your well-being."
"Well, miles is a little bit exaggerated, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Chevallier?" Jefferson retorted calmly, but his eyes were showing a hint of annoyance within them. "And please rest assured that Miss Belle stays under the master's protecting throughout her entire visit. You see… your worries are completely misplaced."
Gaston let out another contemptuous snort and shook his head.
"My fiancée's protection should be my task to worry about." he hissed with narrowed eyes. "Not your master's."
Belle followed the exchange between the two men with wide open eyes, her pale cheeks illuminated by a slight blush of shocked embarrassment concerning Gaston's rude behavior.
"Gaston, please." Belle finally tried to step in and put her small hand on his upper shoulder in a soothing manner. "We are guests in this castle."
She noticed how the man's muscles softened under her touch, but the look he gave her when he turned his head to look at her was filled with determination and a hint of fury.
"This is about your well-being, darling." he declared with a strong voice. "I'd feel much safer if I had one of those many rooms in the west-wing that are closer to your chambers."
"Well I'm afraid this is neither your nor mine decision to make, Mr. Chevallier." Jefferson explained, his elegant features still formed into a fake smile. "And as I said. The necessity of a change of chambers is not given as your fiancée is already well cared for and protected."
Gaston rolled his eyes, barely containing the fury that was boiling in his enraged veins.
"Of course." he spat, the sarcasm resonating heavy in his voice. "But we don't even know this Count Gold. And who knows what dangers lurk in this dark castle – I am not willing…"
But a smooth, dark voice interrupted Gaston's oral fluency mid-sentence.
"None that I am not able to deal with." someone said from behind them where the large dining table was standing.
Slowly, Belle turned around, already guessing who the stranger's voice probably belonged to.
She inhaled sharply as her eyes caught sight of the man she only knew from the portrait hanging down a stony wall in the Great Hall.
"Believe me that." he added while a promising smirk was toying around his thin lips.
A lean man, just as she had assumed based on the graphic portrayal, clothed in a well-tailored dark suit, and with brown hair that was slightly peppered with a hint of silvery glistering strands was standing right in front of them. Unlimited power and authority was both emanating from his slender form and visible in his dark, sparkling eyes that stood in contrast to the deathly pallor covering his skin. Belle almost shuddered at the thought what a man like him could do to Gaston if he was upset by his behavior. But despite her concerns, a crooked, superior smile was carved into the man's features, revealing several perfectly white and pearly teeth, as his dark gaze was firmly fixed on Belle's fiancé.
"Count Gold, I suppose." Gaston stated with a dark voice, and loosened his grasp around Belle completely to approach the older man.
"You suppose correctly, Mr. Chevallier." Count Gold replied and bowed his head slightly, ignoring Gaston's offered hand completely.
"What an…" he paused for a moment, whirling his hand gracefully through the air and offering the other man another toothy smile. "… well, unexpected pleasure to have you here, Mr. Chevallier. Mr. French has filled many of his narrations with your bravery and physical strength. I'm very delighted to finally make your acquaintance."
The Count's words seemed to push Gaston's buttons just right as the tall man's stony expression faltered a little to make room for a rather prideful one.
"I felt uneasy about the thought to let my fiancée go on this journey all alone." he explained immediately. "A woman as beautiful as her is always in need of protection."
Count Gold stared at him for some moments of silence, the pearly smile still plastered across his pale face.
"That's for sure." he finally replied smoothly, and nodded his head as a sign of approval.
And without a warning, his dark gaze suddenly captured Belle, the young woman's mind and heart freezing for the longest of moments. Slowly, he moved – no, not moved but almost floated – towards, leaving Gaston now completely unnoticed behind.
Belle stood there, completely unable to move even one finger as he smiled at her – a smile as sweet as honey – and his dark pools turned to chocolate brown with golden flecks that were dancing like golden raindrops at twilight.
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"Oh Helen…" he began to address her, his voice low and mesmerizing.
"… thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks at yore
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
to his own native shore.
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Belle couldn't as much as blink at him as he approached her, his voice almost singing in her head and each word clouding her heart and mind like a spell of golden smoke.
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"On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome."
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He was now standing right in front of her, his mesmerizing eyes still firmly locked with hers, and the shiny smile never faltering as he cited one of her most favorite poems. She felt how her soft, warm hand was infolded by something soft and cold, but she found that she didn't mind. Not as long as this man was still standing in front of her, not as long as his gaze and voice held a hold on her mind and heart.
Count Gold lifted her hand to his mouth. His thumb followed her line of knuckles gently as her hand hovered only inches before his mouth.
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"Lo, in your brilliant window-niche…" he continued softly, his voice caressing her skin like velvet.
"How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand,
Ah! Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy Land!"
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She felt how his lips gently brushed against her skin, his eyes never leaving hers in the process. In this very moment, the woman's mind had gone completely blank – her focus too captured by the galvanic sensation of his touch and gaze on her skin and face, her whole body and soul seemingly only existing for this splint of a flash – seemingly ever had.
"It is truly a major honor to finally meet Maurice's enchanting daughter in person, Miss French." he added after some more moments of fantastic paralyzation. "And please let me take the liberty of telling you that your father's descriptions of your mesmerizing beauty was not even in the slightest able to reach the genuine truth of reality."
A slight blush started to form on her cheeks when Belle's lips offered him a genuine but shy smile, desperately trying to force her mind to work again.
"Your kind words make me blush, milord." she finally was able to admit in a breathy voice. "And although I feel flattered by the beauty of them and your choice of poem, I yet am afraid no woman alive would ever be able to live up to the everlasting beauty of Helen of Troy."
A knowing smirk appeared on the Count's pale face, his eyes darkening a little.
"And yet, mylady…" he said lowly. "… do I believe that the princess must have looked exactly like you."
Belle's lips were slightly parted, ready to think of a witty response, but her mind a golden cloud of smoke and words. She didn't know how long she had stared at Count Gold, how long she had been standing there without knowing, without even caring whereshe was and why she was there – when another, dark voice from the distance forced her to leave this state of strange mesmerization.
"Princess?" Gaston asked with a wary sound in his voice. "What kind of princess?"
Belle looked up, her head feeling light and dizzy at the same moment as she met Gaston's confused gaze.
It was only then that Count Gold finally let go of her hand, turning towards her fiancé with a calm smile on his face.
"The gorgeous princess of Sparta who was abducted by a love-stricken Trojan prince, Mr. Chevallier." he explained patiently, but a hint of amusement was dancing in his voice. "In Greek myths, she was considered as the most beautiful woman in the world, but induced the doom of an entire realm."
Gaston stared at the Count for a long moment before his eyes flickered towards Belle.
The blush that was still lingering on Belle's cheeks only increased when she met his intent gaze.
"Well in that case…" he said and moved his body so that he was standing right beside her and encircled her slim waist with one of his big hands. "… I am only too happy to call you mine, dear."
Belle smiled at him as she looked up to meet his love-filled eyes, the lingering dizziness in her heart and mind making her readily accessible to any sort of affections. If she had glanced even one look at the Count who was watching the scene with eagle eye, she would have seen the pleasant mask on his face crumble, revealing the grimace of darkness and possessive longing underneath.
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Belle was sitting in front of the vanity table in her room, brushing her wave of dark curls with long, smooth strokes. Her mind wandered back to tonight's dinner, her heart starting to increase its beat as her thoughts touched the memory of Count Gold. Never in her life had she met a man like him – a man of intelligence and elegance she had never seen before, each of his moves seemingly carefully thought out and coordinated, each word chosen and a spoken, flowery picture. A man as mysterious as the rumors his name inherited. But there was something in his eyes – in his gaze – that didn't seem to match this well established façade of continence and sangfroid. She had seen it when she had sometimes looked up from her plate, finding his almost greedy gaze lingering on her small form for only a flash of a second. It had made her shudder, but had also stirred something within her she was not quite able to place – not even able to categorize. Good or bad – shudders of fear or of pleasure, she didn't know. Everything seemed to be merely a hazy primeval soup of uncategorized sensations.
Belle let out a long sigh, placing the comb down onto the wooden surface of her vanity table.
Maybe she had just imagined things.
Count Gold had behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the entire dinner. He had asked about their journey, had talked to Gaston about his family and business back in France and New York… he had even asked Belle about her life in the States and had asked about her most favorite activities as a pastime. His eyes had taken on a strange color of darker brown when she had told him about the books and poetry she had been reading, and that she had been more than delighted that he had cited one of Edgar Allan Poe's most famous poems. A knowing smirk had appeared on his face, and Belle had briefly wondered if her father had already told him about her love for the written word.
Her father.
A heavy cloud of sadness started to conquer her heart when she thought of her beloved papa who was so close and yet so far away. Count Gold hadn't said much about her father this evening, had merely told her that he was at the verge between life and death. Belle had let out a gasp in shocked disbelief, fearing that her arrival had been too late, and Gaston had immediately patted her hand in a soothing manner. Count Gold had tapped his fingers onto the wooden surface of the dining table, and for the longest of moments, the echo of that tapping sound had been the only noise that would break through the overwhelming silence between them. But when had raised his voice again, it had sounded serene and sober, maybe even optimistic at some points. He had told Belle that he would make sure to check in on her father overnight, and that she would be able to see him tomorrow. Apparently, Count Gold had often dealt with this kind of illness, and she should be rest assured that he would do anything in his power to care for Maurice as good as even possible. His words had gone straight to her heart, illuminating a small fire of hope there.
Suddenly, an icy gust of wind made the window to her chamber fly open with a noisy, howling sound. Belle immediately jumped up from her chair, whirling around to see the open window. With every fresh blow of cold air, the frame crashed noisily against the stony wall of the castle's bailey. Belle tightened the silken fabric of her long, cream colored nightdress around her slim frame and moved towards the open window to close it again. She leant out of the small opening, stretching her petite body to reach the window's frame. As soon as her fingers touched the cold metal of the window's catch, a pair of bright golden eyes suddenly appeared in the thickness of the night, staring straight back at her from one of the battlements' peaks. Belle let out a shocked, faltering sound as the scream that was lingering in her throat wouldn't come to life. With a determined, quick pull, she closed the window with a noisy thud-sound, locked it immediately and drew the heavy crimson velvet curtains to shield her sight from the darkness outside. Her heart was beating dreadfully vehemently against her rib-cage as her gaze was firmly fixed on the place where the curtains hid the castle's window.
Belle stood there for some moments longer, but nothing happened. After some more minutes of pleasant non-happenings, her heart beat started to regularize, and the shock that had taken control over her mind and limbs slowly started to subside.
She shook her head, chiding her own silly behavior.
Since she had come to Scotland, her nerves seemed to be stretched to breaking point. And she was obviously already in the state of hallucinations – that should trouble her more than imaginary golden eyes that seemed to spy on her.
She let out a small laugh – partly to convince herself of the mere insanity of her thoughts, and partly to ease the feeling of uneasiness that was still clouding her mind.
She let out another sigh and sat down on the comfortable, spacious bed.
Sleep would do her good, the beauty thought as she lowered herself onto the soft sheets of velvet and feathers.
All problems and fears would vanish as soon as she would pass through the dream-bringing gates of Morpheus, when she would let herself fall deeper and deeper into a world of darkness and imagination.
And with those thoughts in mind, the young beauty blew out the last candle on her nightstand, committing her body and soul to the darkness of the night.
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NOTES
Guys: simply.. wow! Thank you so much for such an amazing feedback. I'm really glad you liked the start of my Rumbelle vampire fanfic! And I hope you enjoyed reading the second chapter.
The poem I used when Count Gold met Belle is called 'To Helen' - one of my most favorite poems by Edgar Allan Poe. I thought it would fit quite nicely into the story .. :) Hope you liked it to!
Thanks again for taking the time to read and enjoy my story!
J