Chapter 4: C is for Courting
"Well done! Now let's try again."
Over the past week, Belle had come over every day with parchment, quill, ink, and a determination to teach Rumplestiltskin his letters. Prior to Belle's teaching, he had only learned enough to make scribbles that resembled the letters that spelled his name. He didn't know how to read the contracts he sometimes had to sign, and he knew that he could unknowingly sign away his every possession if someone decided to trick him. But Belle was here and he was grateful for her. He knew that Belle loved reading. She had mentioned that her home was filled with books, many of them coming from her father when he went away on business. It was tradition that he bring her a new book when he returned. She spoke about them with fondness and even brought over one or two to show Rumplestiltksin. She held them delicately, caressing the covers as if they were her children and she was soothing their troubles. It was fascinating to watch her eyes sparkle as she talked about the stories held within the rough parchment inside, and it made Rumplestiltskin eager to discover the stories for himself.
As much as he longed to read the stories that Belle spoke so fondly of, first he had to learn his letters, and then how to write. He couldn't wait to be able to write, and he had already begun dreaming of the letters he would write and give to Belle; but he knew that would come later. Instead, Belle began by teaching him the letters and what sounds they made and what words began with those letters. He felt absolutely stupid when he couldn't remember how a word was pronounced or what sound a letter made, but Belle was steadfast and patient, and after a week he could recognize over half the letters she showed him.
She held up the small piece of parchment that she had written the letter A on and asked him if he could tell her what letter it was and the sounds it made. He answered her correctly and was rewarded with a cry of delight as she clapped her hands. "Wonderful! All right, the next letter." He made his way down the list, smiling proudly when he was right. Belle seemed pleased with him and that was the perfect determination to learn as much as he could.
"You're doing so well," she encouraged him, "You're learning quickly."
If this was quick, he was amazed. He still felt stupid, but her praises were often enough to push away his insecurity. Before her words at the festival, he'd been convinced she would never truly want to be with someone who did not know how to read or write. But now that he knew she was fond of him, he was determined to improve himself so that he would be more suited for Belle. She deserved the best, and he would ensure that he became his absolute best if it meant she would choose him.
She held up the letter A again and said, "All right. Now I want you to tell me a word that starts with each letter. I'll help when needed."
He stared at the A for a moment then slowly said, "A-apple?"
She smiled and held up the B. "Belle," he said with a small grin. She giggled and swatted at him, then held up the letter C. "Kind," he responded and frowned when she shook her head.
"Some letters have similar sounds," she said. "Kind starts with a K. But, that was a good try. Can you give me another word?"
He sat and focused for a long time, trying to think of a proper word. After a moment he whispered, "Coward."
She dropped her hand and gave him a hard glare. "While that is correct," she said firmly, "I don't want you using that word again. Try something else."
He stared at the letter for some time, trying to think of a word. He lowered his gaze to the table, then remembered the day she had first come to his home.
"Cake," he said, glancing up with hope.
She offered him a smile, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "Very good. Next one."
They worked for a few hours, and finally Belle's cheer came back as he continued to progress. She told him countless times how proud she was of him and at the end of the lesson she gave him a quick kiss on his cheek as a reward for his hard work. They both blushed; the gesture was simple yet so resonating. It would not do for someone to see her bestowing her kisses on his cheek. They were not wed. They were not even courting, and if they were caught exchanging even the chastest of kisses, Belle's reputation could be put in jeopardy. He knew she did not care for such things, but he cared about her, and the last thing he wanted was to inadvertently cause her harm.
A plan formed in his mind then, and before she left he asked if she would mind leaving the letters with him so that he could practice some more. She happily left them, as well as a quill, ink, and a spare piece of parchment. He bid her a good evening then sat down at his small table and began to copy her letters in a scratchy, messy handwriting, muttering the words those letters started with as he went.
He wanted to be perfect for her tomorrow, so he stayed up half the night repeating the letters aloud and remembering the right words that the letters were associated with. By the time he went to bed he had the entire list memorized and could recite at least two different words each for each letter. He had never felt so proud of himself before and he hoped that Belle would be just as proud of him.
~000~
The next day he woke early to ensure all his chores were complete before Belle arrived. He worked hard and fast, covering the sheep's wool with lanolin and preparing it to be spun. The batch he had done the day before was ready and he took to his wheel to spin, completing an entire spool's worth before Belle arrived.
He let her in and offered her a drink, which she gladly accepted. He poured a small amount of ale into a clay up and she took a grateful sip before asking how his private studying went.
"I feel good," he said at last. "I think you'll be pleased."
They made it through the list once and Belle laughed in delight when he answered every letter correctly. She stood and wrapped her arms around him in a hug and he sighed pleasantly as he held his hands politely at her hips, not daring to press closer to her the way he desired.
She returned to her seat and asked if he would like to do it one more time before they moved on. She claimed he was ready for more challenging work, and he agreed. She shuffled through the cards and held up the A.
"Arm," he said, pointing to his own.
She smiled and held up the B. "Beautiful," he said, offering her a small smile.
She blushed but said nothing, instead holding up the C card.
"Courting," he said resolutely.
She paused and blinked. "What?"
He cleared his throat and grabbed the legs of his chair, pulling it closer to her. "Courting," he repeated. "C is for courting, which I would very much like for us to do."
Her mouth hung open in a half smile as she regarded him curiously for a moment. After a moment, her lips turned up into a true grin and she let out a breathy laugh. "You want to court me?" She asked in slight surprise.
He nodded and waited for her answer. He bit at his lip, wondering why she hadn't said anything. Surely he hadn't misread her? He'd been certain that she would say yes; she offered him her affections freely, but now he began to wonder, his fear that she would reject him growing by the moment. She began shuffling through the letters, and Rumplestiltskin watched her with curiosity. Was she ignoring his question? She held up the Y and said, "What word starts with this letter?"
Other than yellow and yarn, he had no idea what to say. He didn't understand. He'd thought of a clever way to ask her to court him, and she was still doing their lesson. Maybe she was skipping though the letters so they would finish and she could make her excuses and leave. He glanced down in defeat and gave her a small shrug, which seemed to amuse her.
She reached over with the hand that wasn't holding the letter and touched his. "Yes," she whispered.
He blinked up at her in surprise. "What?"
Smiling gently, she repeated, "Y is for yes. As in, yes, Rumplestiltskin, I'd like you to court me."
Had he not been so stunned, he would have leapt from his seat with a wild shout, whooping and cheering and dancing around his small shack in radiant joy. But his surprise kept him in check and he remained where he was, simply staring at her in complete disbelief. He could hardly believe it had worked, and he had no idea what to do now she had said yes. Completely at a lost, he gave up and laughed, the sound soft and breathy as he allowed her answer to sink in. "You will?" He asked, his tone tight from the sheer excitement and fire that burned through him.
She nodded, her smile wide and her eyes bright, "I will."
He reached out his hand to her, then stopped himself. Was he allowed to hug her? She had bestowed affection upon him, but should he act upon his desires and hold her to him? She sensed his hesitation and stood, pulling him up to his feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. His arms looped loosely around her shoulders and he rested his cheek against the top of her head, the pleasant feeling of someone so close a true delight. The warmth she radiated surrounded him and he'd never felt so good before.
After a moment, a thought occurred to him and he pulled back slightly, staring at her with a frown. "I should speak with your father."
She hummed in agreement. "Yes," she said, "It is the…proper…thing to do." She laughed, "But it probably would be for the best. He is a bit protective of me."
Rumplestiltskin swallowed thickly and nodded. "Perhaps I could visit him tomorrow?"
"So eager to court me?" She teased, and Rumplestiltskin grabbed her hand instinctively.
"Very."
That sobered Belle, and she squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Come to dinner tomorrow," she offered, "You can speak to him then."
He agreed and she smiled, leaning close to him. "I was hoping you would ask me the night of the festival," she admitted. "But better late than never I suppose." She laughed and winked at him, causing him to flush and stutter an apology for not asking her sooner.
"It's all right," she told him, "I'm just glad you asked me. I know what everyone says about you, but it always made me wonder why they never took the time to get to know you. I should have spoken to you sooner and I don't know what held me back. But then, we bumped into each other that day, and I took it as a sign from the gods that this was my chance to get to know you. I wasn't going to waste my chance."
"I always wanted to speak to you. But I never thought you would be interested in a poor spinner like me."
"Well, I am," she insisted gently. "Very much so."
He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad."
She giggled and they smiled at each other, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. Things were moving quickly, he realized; but he would have it no other way. She had only truly been in his life a little over a week, and already he longed for the day that she would walk through his door and never have to leave again. She was old enough to marry, and he began to calculate in his mind how long it would be proper to wait after gaining permission from her father to court her before returning to ask for her hand.
He'd often thought himself a fool for hoping that he would find someone who saw him as more than a coward's son, but he had found it in Belle. He could already imagine their future together, and it filled him with a joy that he'd never known before. He hadn't even gotten her father's permission yet, but he was still the happiest of men. Just knowing how she felt was more than enough to satisfy him for a lifetime. He paused at that thought. No, he realized. It would not be enough. He was tired of enough. He was tired of settling for whatever he could get and hoping that one day his luck would turn. Belle was the turn of his luck, and he was going to take full advantage of the confidence her affection produced in him. He felt like a man, not simply flesh and bone; but he felt like a man should feel: strong, proud, and eager to provide for those he cared for. He was coming into his own, and all it had taken was the simple validation from the petite young woman standing before him.
"I'll see you tomorrow for dinner?" She asked, waiting for him to confirm once more that he would be there.
"Assuming your father allows me into his home," Rumple said softly. Belle placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled encouragingly at him. "He will."
"You seem certain."
"I'm always certain."
She smiled mischievously and he realized she was teasing. He loved that about her; she could be so light and carefree and her joy was infectious. She moved away and pulled on the small cloak she'd removed earlier and blew him a kiss, her eyes bright with amusement at his surprise. "Until then, Rumplestiltskin," she whispered before slipping out the door and into the fading light of day.
"Until then," he whispered, his voice as light as the air he spoke to.
He cleaned up the mess they'd made during their lesson, putting her parchment, letters, and quill in his travel basket so that he would remember to take them to her tomorrow. He stripped his clothing, deciding that for the second time in two weeks he would bathe. It was, as it was with many things, not a luxury he often enjoyed, but he was trying to make an impression and the last thing he wanted was to show up at Belle's home reeking of lanolin and sheep and general filth.
He crawled into his bed and fell asleep quickly, not allowing himself to worry over what Belle's father would say when asked to court her properly. The worst her father could say was no, he reasoned, and he had a feeling Belle wouldn't take that for an answer.
~000~
Despite his ease the night before, the next day he did worry. He now felt the fear that he was used to feeling come over him with full force. He fretted about what he would say, how he would say it, and what he would do if her father did say 'no'. He could not bear to think of what he would do if he was denied the one thing he truly wanted – the only thing he truly wanted in this world – and the worry had him so nervous and shaking that he found he was completely useless at his spinning needed steady hands for his trade and his nerves were so worked up that he could barely lift his hand without it trembling like a leaf in a storm.
Resigning himself to a day of being unproductive, he trudged down to the creek and collected a bucket of water to use for bathing. He returned home and poured some of the water into the small kettle over the fire to heat it, then dipped a rag in the warm water. He washed off quickly, pouring water over his head, shivering at the cooling water. He shook his head like a wet dog, droplets of water flying everywhere and he dropped his old shirt into the water to let it soak. He pulled on his clean shirt, grateful that he'd quickly gotten into the habit of washing them more often now that he had a lovely young woman visiting frequently
He sat at the table and broke off a small piece of bread and nibbled at it, finding that his stomach was too full of nerves to properly handle any food. He continued to nibble anyway, knowing he needed to at least have something small to keep him from feeling weak with hunger. As he ate, he thought about what he would say, what he would do. He was desperate for things to go well. He'd been offered a sliver of hope; he'd tasted the sweetness that life could offer and now he craved for more. He craved Belle. He lowered his head to rest on the table and asked the gods to grant him favor for once in his life.
~0~
Rumple stood at the front door to Belle's home and took a trembling breath. He knocked softly, not wanting to do anything at all to annoy Belle's father. He hoped that Belle would answer the door so he would not have to immediately face her father, and to his quiet relief she did. Belle smiled at him and ushered him inside. She took his cloak and hung it on a hook on the wall. Rumple glanced around the home, taking in the small but spacious room, warm and bright with a fire that roared proudly in the hearth. Belle ushered him over to the table in the middle of the room where three plates and cups were laid out. "Papa is outside, roasting a chicken," she explained. "He should return with it any moment."
The thought of a roasted chicken leg was enough to make Rumplestiltskin's stomach begin to growl, and he clamped his hand over it as if the gesture would make the sound stop. He sighed heavily and prayed Belle had not heard. "Relax," she said, noticing his unease, "Papa only does this on very special occasions."
Wondering what could make his visit so special, Rumplestiltskin sat idly for a moment, unsure of what to do. Did he offer to go help her father? Did he want to be alone with the man before he had determined the type of mood he was in? He barely knew Maurice. The man was a scribe as well as a notary and helped people in all manner of ways in the village. His daughter had clearly taken after him, helping teach others how to read and write.
The door on the other end of the room opened and Maurice walked in, carrying a pan with a roasted chicken. Rumple took in the man as he approached. He was large and burly, but not overly. His hair was short and combed back, greying at the temple. His face was lined with the beginnings of wrinkles but he did not look as if he were older than his late forties. His face was thick and his eyes were friendly and he offered Rumplestiltskin a stiff smile as he placed the pan in the center of the table.
Rumplestiltskin met his eyes and smiled back. The suspicion came over him that Maurice knew why he was here. Standing up quickly, he held his hand out to the other man. "Good evening, sir," he said keeping his voice steady, despite his nervousness. "I'm Rumplestiltskin."
Maurice took his hand and shook it briefly before letting go to grab a knife to begin carving the chicken. "And you have eyes for my daughter," he said plainly, causing Belle to drop something behind them and mutter embarrassedly, "Papa!"
Rumplestiltskin gulped and nodded, unsure if he was meant to confirm or deny Maurice's accusation. He feared suddenly that if he admitted to it, her father would use the knife to carve him instead of the chicken for even thinking he was good enough for Belle.
Maurice chuckled at his daughter's embarrassment. "I apologize, my girl."
She brought over the bread and some dried fruit and Maurice dropped a large chunk of chicken onto Rumplestiltskin's plate. "Eat up, Spinner," he said. "Belle was right when she said you were as thin as a bean pole."
Rumplestiltskin's face grew hot, and he did as he was told.
Dinner was an enjoyable affair, much to Rumplestiltskin's surprise. Other than Maurice's earlier joke about him having eyes for his daughter, not another word about the subject was spoken, for which he was grateful. He didn't know if he could handle Maurice's rejection in front of Belle, but he was also growing increasingly nervous of the thought of asking to speak to him alone. He was not a fearsome fellow, but he was the father of the woman Rumplestiltskin sought to court, and that was enough to make the portly scribe more terrifying than any scary story he'd heard as a child.
They finished their meal and Rumplestiltskin complimented Maurice on the cooking. Maurice merely smirked and turned to Belle, instructing her to take a bucket down to the creek to collect some more water for them to wash the dishes later. Bowing her head, she did as she asked, retrieving her cloak and the wooden pail before offering both men a small smile and exiting.
Rumplestiltskin bit at his lip. He was alone with her father and all the words he'd rehearsed in his head earlier suddenly left him. Any courage he'd built up throughout the evening seemed to vanish with Belle, and he sat there frozen and foolish, trying to figure out what he was going to do now that he had the chance.
Oh, how he hated being a coward. He did not deserve Belle.
Grunting and picking up the empty plates, Maurice spoke first. "Belle tells me you asked her to court you." It was a simple statement and his voice betrayed nothing, but Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but feel terror well up inside him. Choking it back down, he nodded and replied, "Y-yes, sir."
"And now do you have something to ask me?"
Again, Rumplestiltskin nodded. "I-I do," he stuttered. He paused, trying to keep his voice even and spoke, "I'd like to have your permission to court Belle, please. Sir."
Maurice turned to face him and where Rumplestiltskin had expected to see a harsh stare, there was only a humored smirk. "So far, you're the fourth young man to come asking for my daughter's hand."
Rumplestiltskin did not like the sound of that.
Maurice continued, "But you are the only one that she has ever declared interest in."
Rumplestiltskin's eyebrow's raised in surprise.
"It is my belief that no one in this village is good enough for my daughter. But I've always promised myself that if Belle found a man she cared for, I would not stop her. So far, she's come to me and asked me to tell the young men no. Yesterday, however," he said as he grabbed two mugs and a jar of ale, "She came to me and asked me to say yes. You can imagine my surprise that my daughter had finally become interested in someone."
Maurice poured the ale into the mugs and approached Rumplestilskin. He placed one down in front of him, then took a drink from his own. Swallowing, Maurice continued, "I've never seen my girl so taken with someone; she's always been more fond of her books and studying the trade with me. But I suppose it had to happen at some point."
He cleared his throat and moved to face Rumplestiltskin more directly. "So, what I want to know is this: If I do as my daughter wishes and allow you to court her, what will she get out of it? What can you offer her?"
Rumplestiltskin sat still and silent for a long moment, mulling over the question. Finally he met Maurice's gaze and answered truthfully, "I don't have much, sir. But I do care for your daughter. I cannot offer her riches or books, but I can offer her a home, small though it may be. I can offer her my heart. I can offer her respect and love and kindness. That's all I have, really."
"Leave the books to me," Maurice said simply, "As long as you treat her well, care for her and love her, then I'll gladly see her court you." He smiled and chuckled softly to himself. "Though even if I said no, she would still find ways to see you. She's a stubborn one when she wants to be."
"So-so you…approve, then?" Rumplestiltskin asked hesitantly, wanting to ensure he understood exactly what her father was saying.
"My daughter knows what she wants," he explained. "And I'm an old fool who will see to it that she has whatever she wants; which other than books, is very little. I know who you are, Rumplestiltskin. I know what is said about you. But I know my daughter and she can see the best in people. She claims you are a hard worker and I believe it. I respect that in a man, no matter what else is known about him. You're too poor to afford to drink, so I know that my girl is safe from that kind of life. She's never had much, and she still won't with you, but if she's happy then I see no reason to say no."
He leaned forward then, his face alarmingly close to Rumplestiltskin's. "But be warned, Spinner. Hurt her, and you'll rue the day you stepped into my home."
"I would never hurt her, sir," he swore.
Maurice leaned back and rested his hands on his large belly. "Good."
At that, the door opened and Belle waltzed in, humming as she carried a bucket of water. Rumplestiltskin wondered if she'd been listening at the door or if she simply had impeccable timing. He would have to ask her later. "So what did the two of you speak of while I was gone?" She asked cheerfully, feigning ignorance as she transported some of the water from the bucket to a kettle, which she then placed over the fire.
"I was just giving Rumplestiltskin my blessing to court you."
Rumplestiltskin never saw someone move so quickly. She was at her father's side in an instant, hugging him tightly and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, Papa!" She whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. He took her hands and held them steadily in his. "You must obey the proper etiquette in this," he gently chided. "I know your opinions on such things, but whether you agree or not, it is the way things are, and I will not have your reputation tarnished by you spending your days locked in his home teaching him to read. You will meet here, or somewhere publicly, and you will do nothing that is deemed improper. Is that understood?"
Belle blushed furiously and Rumplestiltskin wondered if it were from the topic at hand, or that she was being scolded by her father in front of him. He felt embarrassed by the former, wanting to keep any and all thoughts of what was improper from his head. He knew what was not allowed for couples who were not wed. But he was also well aware that it was becoming more and more common for couples to disregard such rules, often finding a thrill in sneaking off for a moment alone, the act itself almost as thrilling as the risk of being caught. But he was a bit older than Belle and had been brought up in the ways that dictated utmost respect, propriety, and chasteness until the couple entered the marriage bed. And if that was all Maurice expected of him in courting his daughter, he would be damned if he did anything to the contrary.
Belle acquiesced to her father's comments and asked if they could have their lessons here instead. "You'll be here, Papa," she reasoned, "And Rumplestiltskin is doing very well. I don't wish to postpone our lessons simply because people might talk about us."
Maurice nodded. "That is up to Rumplestiltskin. He no doubt has his own work to do and cannot simply drop everything because you want to play school."
"I can spare a few evenings," Rumplestiltskin spoke up softly, shrinking down in his seat ever so slightly when both father and daughter turned to look at him. "Perhaps two nights a week?"
"That would be acceptable," Maurice agreed before pushing his chair back and standing. "Now, I have some documents to go over before I retire. Belle, I expect you to see him off at a decent hour and then go to bed. Am I understood?"
She nodded obediently. "Yes, Papa."
"Good," he picked up a candle from the shelf above their small fire place and lit it before placing it in a holder. "Good evening to you both," he said before he moved out of the room and into what Rumplestiltskin could only assume was his bedroom. The makeshift door that divided the rooms snapped shut, leaving them alone in the soft light of the fire.
Belle turned and beamed at him. "We're courting," she said gently as she came to stand beside him.
He rose and turned to face her, a genuine smile spreading his lips wide. "We're courting," he repeated dazedly as he reached down to take her hand. He lifted it and pressed her knuckles to his lips in a hesitant kiss, amazed at how much had changed since his birthday. He'd awoke that morning thinking his life would never get any better.
Now he realized not only could get better; it had.
Author's Notes:
Thank you everyone for the reviews and kind words!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! It's my favorite so far.
Chapter 5 will be posted November 15!
See author's notes in chapters 1 & 2 for the disclaimer.