Apologies in advance for any writing issues or grammatical errors. I have been under the weather, myself, and while I purposefully didn't write while my brain felt like mush, I am still not 100% and a bit worried about errors. You are always welcome to let me know in the comments :)
Chapter 10 How to Mend a Guilty Conscience
While Mr. Gold slept most of the day, Belle puttered around. That sounds like laziness, and that wasn't the case, as she did work-but it was as if she had been put on slow mode and couldn't quite catch up to her normal speed. She cleaned up after herself in the kitchen, and then decided it might be a good thing to sanitize door knobs. After that task was completed, all the sudden, she decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies. The reason being, she didn't have to think about them much, outside of making sure she put the right measurements. Baking was comforting and relaxing, which was exactly what Belle needed at that moment. She had always felt closest to her mother when she baked, and the turmoil in her mind craved the sort of comforting only a mother could give. She also needed something that would allow her thoughts to roam without worrying she had messed up whatever she was working on. She sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands as she waited for each batch to bake, telling herself she would wash the dishes once it was all done. She just needed to think.
The day had been one complete roller coaster. First, she had been so worried and concerned over him when she realized he was ill. Then when he had made that observation that she looked run down and tired, and that it was a sign that she had worked for her father the night before, the worry and concern she felt in that statement had warmed her-and he had used her name! She had felt foolishly giddy when he had done so, only for it all to come crashing down over that stupid trip to get the ledger book-something he probably was too tired, ill, and stressed to open. As soon as she came back down the stairs and put the tray down, she had immediately gone down and closed the door to the study, determined not to allow any curiosity to form, and to prove that she was, indeed, worthy of trust. Not that her present emotions would even grant much curiosity, anyway. No sooner had she thought he would fight her tooth and nail over staying at the Victorian and her father's debts continue to be freed, he just simply agreed and apologized. It was no great or sentimental apology (though she imagined that for Mr. Gold the simple words he used probably meant more than great gestures from other people), he did not play it all off though, either. He had seemed to see the error of his ways and conceded that he had been in the wrong. It had pulled all the fight out of her in a moment-the way his eyes looked so cast down and his features so tired and vulnerable had her forgiving him in an instant. Perhaps she was too forgiving, but what would be the point of holding onto a grudge?
To go and check up on Mr. Gold that evening proved the hardest challenge. She didn't want to disturb him, nor did she want to completely abandon him either. She braved it and went to his room once she knew he was awake. When she refreshed his water and asked after him, he mumbled a very genuine 'thanks Belle' and the way he said her name had her scurrying out as quickly as possible. As she went to sleep that night, she did so with no book to lull her to blissful slumber, as they were all in that horrid study of secrets.
Belle was surprised when at seven thirty the next morning, a now freshly showered and back in his elegant suits, Mr. Gold entered the kitchen. His limp was much more pronounced than usual, and while his head was down when he walked in, she could see the wince of pain as she scanned his face. This all happened in a moment, as when realizing that he was there, she jumped up to gather the toast making materials.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Gold, I didn't know if you would be coming down or not. How are you feeling?'
It was all said in a rush, as the awkward tension was still there. She almost longed for a quip or a scoff, just so things would be back to complete normal-as long as he didn't threaten to fire her for not making toast on a Monday, she would have accepted anything but the uncomfortable silence in between question and answer.
'I'm feeling a bit better today, thank you.' His voice might have sounded a little less raspy, but upon daring a glance behind her shoulder (though when their eyes met she went back to pulling out sandwich material) she could tell that he was far from being back to his normal self.
'I'm glad to hear that.' She threw a concerned glance towards him, worried that he was up and around too quickly, but decided to say no more.
She was glad when he went to butter his toast and select the jam that he wanted-that was normal, that was routine. He was quiet, but he always was, so that did not bother her. She could almost imagine that the entire thing hadn't happened, and he was her employer and she was just the housekeeper. Almost.
'I have been thinking, Miss French.' He was now sitting at the little kitchen table, a sign that his leg must really be bothering him, as he was normally in a rush and frequently munched on his breakfast standing up. Also, she was Miss French once again. She sighed.
'Yes, Mr. Gold?'
'I think you have earned a much deserved break.'
That had her attention. The hesitant almost coolness that laced his words had her retreating from her assembly of his lunch and instead faced him with arms crossed-not in anger, mostly absent minded curiosity. She tilted her head.
'For the next week, Miss French, your time is your own to do with what you will. The terms of our deal will still be intact, it will not cause you to have to work for any longer than agreed upon before, and you can resume duties next Monday. Dove will be at your disposal to take you wherever you want to go. I hope this is acceptable to you.' His hand did a sort of flittering gesture towards her at the end.
Of all the things Belle had expected him to say that morning, this was not it. She could think of only two reasons why he had come up with such a sudden plan-either he was still angry and he wanted her gone so he could continue to cool down some, or he was feeling guilty over it still. The well known image of Mr. Gold would have made her believe the former, whereas the snippets she had happened upon here and there gave her a feeling that he was capable of the latter.
'This is about yesterday, yes? Are you still upset with me?' She chewed at her bottom lip.
His eyes, still a bit glazy from his cold, seemed to sharpen towards her, but sharpen in a way that made her think that he might be pained for some reason, and she found that she didn't like that very much.
'No, no, that's.' He cleared his throat, his voice still gravely. 'That's not it at all.'
A second or two of uncomfortable silence followed.
'I told you I forgave you, Mr. Gold.' She said quietly. ' And I haven't, and I won't encroach on your privacy, or extract from you anything you don't want to tell me.'
'I know' he muttered, before he attempted to straighten himself in his seat a little. 'Be that as it may, I still feel a sense of obligation towards you, and am doing this as a good-will gesture, to show you that you will have no fear over a repeat of what is now your additional stipulation to our deal that you gave me yesterday afternoon.'
Leave it to Mr. Gold to make all of it sound like a business proposition instead of actually saying something like 'I'm sorry again, and I still feel guilty-have a week off on me!'
She felt the sentiments instead of hearing them, so she gave him a smile, for he really didn't have to, and she hadn't expected him to do this.
'Alright, thank you, Mr. Gold, I appreciate it.'
A small smile slowly made its way up to his cheeks, as his shoulders seemed to relax a bit.
'And what will you do with your week of freedom then, Miss French?' His tone now was much more lighter, and she thought that perhaps finally, with his guilt appeased, that they had put what had happened behind them.
She crossed her arms again, placing a finger on her chin in thought, and she thought she caught a twinkle in Mr. Gold's eyes, but she thought then again, perhaps she had imagined it.
'I think I'm going to go up and change your sheets.'
The twinkle was certainly not there anymore when she caught them again, but his lips gaped a little. Apparently to better read Mr. Gold's face, you simply said something to catch him completely off guard.
'You don't have to do that!'
Belle shrugged. 'You sweat in them all night, I was planning to do them anyway, and as long as you think that you're fever is over, it is, isn't it, Mr. Gold? Because you probably shouldn't go to work if you are still running a fever.'
Belle realized she was rambling about halfway through, but his open look towards her was unnerving her so much that she basically let her body do a direct a brain to mouth without filtering it out for coherency or decorum.
After looking at her the entire time as if she had just walked off of an alien space ship, he seemed to gather himself a little.
'I don't think I am running a fever anymore, thank you though, Miss French, and I…'
'You called me Belle, yesterday. Miss French feels so formal. I know I'm just the housekeeper, but the name makes me feel like I should be in black dress pants, have my hair in a tight bun and perhaps wear a pair of oversized glasses.' She sighed at the finish of this declaration, rather exasperated, she wasn't expecting him to agree to switch.
'Alright, Belle.' He had a sort of shy, crooked smile-his eyes had half the sparkle she thought she had caught before. 'I am feeling a bit better, however, I am staying here for the day. I. um, Dove is already aware that I am staying home, yet also ready to pick you up whenever you are ready and take you anywhere you would like to go. Finally, though I am not a fancy housecleaner, I do believe I know how to run a washer and dryer. I might even manage to pull clean sheets out of the linen closet!'
Belle was really smiling now, the image of Mr. Gold doing domestic chores in his beautiful suit had her suppressing a giggle. His tone was back to something lighter and it gave her courage (or perhaps the filter had yet to reinstate itself) to add:
'Could have fooled me.'
Mr. Gold was in the middle of gathering his dishes , so he could rise and put them in the sink.
'What do you mean by that?'
Thankfully her words hadn't offended and she took the dishes from him, knowing how badly his leg was hurting him that morning. He nodded his thanks and she replied.
'Well, the sheets weren't changed from the moment your old housekeeper left to the moment I came-and I am pretty sure the sheets that were on the bed in my first room hadn't been changed since Victorian times.'
Something like a laugh came out of Mr. Gold but she imagined it was so unused that she had a hard time understanding that's what it was at first. Once she figured it out, she quite liked it, and secretly hoped that perhaps he would do it again some time.
'Perhaps not that far back, but very close. I suppose I didn't see it as important, so I didn't do it.' His face still held a pleasant expression, but he shrugged with the statement.
'Well, there, you see, you might not see it as important enough and not do it, and that would just be gross. It's fine, Mr. Gold, I don't mind at all, and you are still not feeling well.' He looked like he was about to argue with her but she wasn't going to believe him. 'I know you're not, because you aren't going to work today, which means you must be feeling pretty rough still, as you're a bit of a workaholic.' She teased him a little. His face fell and all the ground they had covered that morning seemed to threaten to slip from under them.
'What?' He wasn't angry, but that look of pain was back around his eyes, and sharper than ever.
'I didn't mean to offend you, please, Mr. Gold.'
And just like that, he seemed to shake himself and the old Mr. Gold was back in his expensive suit. 'It's no matter. I don't mind you doing whatever it is you want to do here, but just rest assured, your time is your own.' He gave a tired, thin smile and heavily limped away.
Belle did exactly what she said she was going to do. She freshened up Mr. Gold's room while he was sequestered away in his study-she knew he was in there because she could hear him rifling with papers as she went by, no doubt locking up the strewn documents that held so much fear and hurt. Mr. Gold, for how many years, she did not know, had not only eaten tv dinners in silence, but had those papers and whatever they held, and she had a great suspicion that they haunted him without the luxury of a friend to help ease his burden. The thought broke her heart for him.
Author's Note: Finally! This part of the drama is sort of put behind us and I can get everything in place for the next bit of drama to come (*evil laugh* *but not completely evil, as some of the drama will be nice or fun*)
Thank you for reading, and also for the nice comments! It really makes my day!