Tales after Dusk 02

There is a severity in her face, like she would rather not talk about it anymore. She turns her head away from him, looking back at the house.

"Belle, I'm sorry if I—"

"Cat told me that he ran his mouth," she says coolly.

"I am sorry, about all of it," he says softly, worried that he got himself back onto her bad side again.

"I don't know why you would be, it isn't like it was your fault," she looks down into her wine glass. Sev can tell that she is contemplating getting up and leaving. He is about to try to change the subject, when she speaks again, softer this time, "Reddington is very large. There are a lot of people that live there, maybe four times as many as Waterford had. There is also a shop for anything that you could imagine, like candy, cookies and breads—they all have their own stores. After my parents died, Anne, my governess, took me to his apothecary there. I was only twelve but I knew that without him, there was no way three shops could survive, so she helped me pack it up. I haven't been back there since. The shop in Bethel was different—I had so many fond memories of my father there, I couldn't go back. We hired some men to pack up the supplies and sell the building. I kept the one in Waterford open and running, until," she pauses, clearing her throat, "until the flood wiped out the town. I was eighteen. I have no use for almost all of those remedies in that room but...well, making them makes me feel like I am a child again, learning at my father's side." She takes a deep breath and drains the rest of her wine.

Sev doesn't know what to say—he has a hundred questions, a thousand curiosities but none of them seem appropriate. "The flood, did it kill everyone?" He refills her wine for her.

"No. A lot of people survived. In fact, they rebuilt the town a few miles upstream, on the side of a cliff. New Waterford, they call it. I went there once, years ago, just to see," after a sip, she sets her glass down, "I stumbled across an old beggar—he was blind. I asked him what happened to the old town; everyone believed it was just an act of the gods that wiped it out. I told him I was looking for a pharmacist but he said that the man and his wife had died years before and that their daughter perished in the flood. Just as well, if I am dead to the world then I can no longer hurt anyone within it."

The sorrow and bitterness in her voice cause Sev's heart to ache. Before him he finally sees a woman who had everything, only to lose anything that actually mattered, leaving behind a lonely, forgotten shell. He feels the urge to reach out to her, to draw her up in his arms and comfort her, let her know that life has a cruel way of testing a person's character, like his Mother did for him when his father died.

He leans towards her, arm outstretched towards her face. As her cold eyes lock onto his, he cups her cheek in his palm, wanting desperately to melt away her frigid exterior. Though he means to stop, his body slowly continues forward, drawing them closer.

The creaking sound of wood interrupts them as a herd of stick men appear from the far side of the house, coming out of the stable in the back. Awkwardly they hobble their way past the couple into the garden with a few bowing to their mistress. Without delay they begin to set to their chores, weeding, pruning and harvesting ripe fruits and vegetables into awaiting baskets. As the baskets fill up, they go scurrying off to the cellar. Sev pulls away from her and sits tall, trying to catch a glimpse of the odd sight over the garden fence, hoping to bury the awkwardness of the previous moment between them.

Belle rises to her feet, smoothing out her skirt as she, too, tries to put the past moment behind her; hesitantly, she offers a hand to Sev, "Would you like to see?" she says quietly.

With a smile, he takes the help up, "Yes, I would love to."

Together they stroll down the neat paths of the garden; Belle points out a few of the more curious plants in each bed. Though he thought they were just ornamental flowers, he is surprised to discover that each one can be useful, either in a tea or as medicine. Listening attentively, he follows her as she makes a wide skirt around the garden, taking care not to turn, look at or even acknowledge the giant, glowing magnolia tree. When they get to the end of the beds, they enter a small orchard.

Belle stands on her tip toes and plucks a fresh apple; after wiping it on her dress she hands it to Sev, who thankfully takes it and bites into it. The juicy crisp flesh is something he has only had once before when he stole one from a tree as a boy. She shows him where the barn and pasture are. Sev is glad to see that his horse has made friends with her pair of gigantic black steeds. There are a few cows and goats, several pigs, chickens, ducks and geese wandering about.

"I am truly amazed; no one has a garden or such healthy looking animals back home."

She shrugs a little, "Thank you but I can't hardly take the credit. Having almost perfect weather everyday makes it easy."

As if jinxing them, the clear skies begin to turn to a drizzle as the snow outside of the fence begins to fall. They make their way back to the front of the house, where both of them kick their shoes off in the foyer.

"Do you play chess?" Belle asks, somewhat hopefully.

He gives her a curious look, having never been asked that by a woman, "Yes—do you?"

For the first time, she gets a soft smile on her lips, "Oh do I. Would you like to play a game or two?"

Sev nods, following her into the drawing room. With a wave of her hand, a small table begins to creep over to the center of the room, followed by the awkward, chunking sway of two plush arm chairs from the far wall. Belle takes a seat, drawing up her legs and folding them underneath her; the cushions of the chair almost overcome her.

As he sits down, he smiles at her, "I suppose I must go easy on you, since you're a lady and all," he jabs. He looks down on the beautiful, intricately carved stone chess set before him. Each piece has immaculate detail, looking like stone statues resting on a wreath of vines.

Sweeping up each queen in a hand, she puts them behind her back. He points to her left, to which she reveals the black queen. After returning them to their spots, she gives him a wry look, "I would be greatly disappointed in you if you did. Pawn to king's four," she says. The tiny vines on the pawn piece slither down the side, forming legs which wobble the piece to the right spot. Belle chuckles at his amazement, "While it is true that you will be my first human opponent in close to ten years, I have had some practice. I taught Chef; he can strategize and but he can't learn to make sacrifices. And Cat, well, he always ends up attacking the pieces." She waits for his move.

"So...I just say 'Pawn to queen's bishop four,' and the piece moves—" Sev asks, though his black pawn slithers over before he can finish his sentence.

The game is afoot. Each of them takes their time, studying the board carefully before making a move. While Belle is looking at her options, Sev can't help but stare at her. Aside from Thomas, there are only a few dozen men in all of Bethel that play and none of them have a board half as nice as this one. There were a few girls that tried to learn when he was younger but they all soon grew bored with it and quit.

Yet Belle maintains a level of intensity that he hasn't ever seen. She stays focused, running through every option in her head before she makes a decision. He is surprised to find out that the more he gets to know her, the more he likes her. Either the men of Waterford were all idiots, or her beauty must have rivaled Helen of Troy for no one to like her for the person she was on the inside.

About an hour into their game, barely half way through, she calls out to Cat and tells him to have Chef bring her a glass of elderberry tea. Her brow glistens with sweat and she grimaces when she reaches out to retrieve the steaming glass from the log.

"Your back?" He asks quietly.

She nods, sipping the tea down.

"You should rest—we can stop and pick it up again after dinner," he looks at her, concerned.

After a long swig, she sets her glass down on the table; with a half smirk, she replies, "Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you? Give you some time to think your next move over?"

It is another hour later that, to Sev's amazement, she finally beats him. He stands to shake her hand and he finds himself somewhat in awe at how smart she is.

As she rises, she sways a little. He watches her carefully but before he can speak she beats him to it, "I think I will lie down a while before supper."

He nods and smiles, "That sounds like a good idea." He shakes her hand but instead of letting go he laces her arm around his so that he can help her back to her bedroom before she can object. After making sure she is safely seated on her simple bed, he gives her a slight bow before closing her door behind him.

A big yawn hits him as he walks up the stairs towards his room. Before he turns towards the cove that leads to his door he pauses a moment in the brightly lit hallway. Slowly he strolls down it, examining each tapestry and painting to discover their beautiful and lush artistry. In the middle of the hall, there is one missing; a lighter colored rectangle indicates that it was there for a while before it was removed. Though it is curious, he moves on down the hall and peeks in a few of the rooms, discovering several guest rooms, each furnished in a different theme and each one lavish, though none quite as large as his room. Before he realizes it, he is at the end of the hall; mirroring his are a series of stairs tucked into a cove that lead up to a large, wooden door carved intricately with designs that remind him of Belle's scars. He lets his fingers trace the indentations. Though he is curious and wants to push the door open to reveal what is behind it, he turns on his heels and heads towards his room before it gets the better of him. Once there he lies back on his bed, letting his mind wander.

If he were to remain here for the rest of his life, he finds himself grateful that at least his companion is smart and interesting and that they share a lot of the same qualities. For a brief moment he wonders to himself—is he falling for this witch, this creature, this beast? Surely that cannot be the case, for who could ever love a beast.

...

He awakens to a cat on his chest.

"Hello," it says, staring down at him.

"Hello," he replies, still somewhat at odds with the fact that it can talk.

"Dinner is almost done. The chef seems to have gotten carried away with himself—it is much more grand than usual. He even broke out the fine china and dressed the table properly," the cat jumps off of his chest as he sits up.

"Is that so? Perhaps I should dress the part then."

The cat purrs in response.

Sev arrives at the dining room to find that it truly is elegant; the shutters have been drawn, the fire stoked and the only other light comes from tall candlesticks on the table, which is covered in a cloth finer than anyone even wears at home. In the drawing room he discovers that some of the help have even tidied up, moving some of the furniture to its rightful place, dusting the large windows, and the floor is even freshly swept and mopped. He tugs at his blue dinner coat, somewhat confused at the fact that he is nervous. When he doesn't see Belle anywhere, he heads towards her room. He can hear Cat and Belle talking quietly behind her closed door.

"This is ridiculous," she says, "I am not going to wear this to dinner in my own house."

"You look beautiful," he purrs at her, "besides, Sev dressed up. If you didn't, think of how embarrassed he would be?"

"He...he did?" she responds quietly, curiously. Then, her voice turns stern, "You damned cat, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" he squeals softly.

"Horse shit—you set this up. Get over here!"

There is a loud cat shriek, "Mistress! Wait, stop—I—okay, I did set this up but I'm telling you, you haven't got much time left. You should at least enjoy yourself."

She pauses, "I should have left you in that alley." Despite the forced anger in her voice, her comment isn't believable. "I can't wear this, it's like trying to dress up a goat. I look stupid."

"No you don't," Cat tries to plead, even though it is obvious he is losing the battle.

Sev rolls his eyes, feeling somewhat sheepish that he was fooled by a cat; he puts an end to their bickering by knocking softly on the door.

Belle's voice, on edge, calls out, "Yes?"

He clears his throat, not sure what to say, "Um, Belle? Would you like to—come to dinner with me?" He feels completely silly asking.

She opens the door a crack, looking out at him, "Ah, yes, that would be nice. I just have to change-"

Before she can shut the door on him, he forces it open. Surprised, shocked and somewhat embarrassed, Belle clasps her hands in front of her, staring at the floor. She is dressed in a golden gown; thin sleeves drape on the sides of her biceps, leaving her shoulders and throat bare. The waist slims in, filling out at her hips to folds of fabric down to the ground. Her dark brown hair is swept up away from her face, her cheeks turning red, "Like I said, I have to change."

"You look—beautiful," Sev replies honestly. Her scars seem to add an exotic quality to her appearance, shrouding her not in ugliness but in mystery. He bows slightly, extending his hand, "May I?"

She is slow to react. When she does begin to reach her hand out, she stops half way, deciding she should retreat. He wraps his fingers around hers, kissing the back lightly, before rising and leading her to the dining room.

They continue their odd routine for a few weeks; meals together, filling in the time between with walks, games and books. The more time they spend with each other, the more Belle's harsh exterior melts away, showing the person she is within and though she occasionally talks about her past, she never touches on the events that lead to her becoming cursed.

One night, their routine is thrown through a loop when a huge thunderstorm prevents them from spending the afternoon and evening outside. Instead, after dinner, they find themselves yet again in the library, sitting around the fireplace. Belle devotes her attention to a book; Sev, having just finished his, stretches out on the couch. He rubs his eyes, refilling his wine glass. Being stuck in doors, both of them have drunk more than usual. As he sips slowly he gets up, walking over to the large covered object in the room. Without even asking, he sweeps the sheet off to find a grand piano underneath.

"Beautiful," he says, touching the keys to elicit a few notes from them.

Belle perks her head up, watching him curiously.

"Do you play?" He asks Belle. He knows she must, or it wouldn't be here in the first place but he can't figure out why she never said anything about it before.

"It has been a long time," she says in a tone that suggests she'd rather not.

Sev uses his apparent intoxication to ignore her hint, "Will you play something for me?" When she starts to protest, he somewhat begs, "Please?"

She sighs, clearly not thrilled about giving in, yet she gets up and sits down on the bench. With perfect posture, she sets her delicate hands on the keys and begins to play a soft, eerie sounding dance. Sev watches in amazement as she strokes the instrument with ease.

Midway through the song, he bows deeply to her, hand extended, "May I have this dance?" He glances up to see her reaction as she curiously watches him. Slowly, she removes her hand from the piano and places it into his—yet the keys keep depressing and the instrument continues on, playing itself.

He helps her up, pulling her close to him; it is the nearest they have been since her wounds healed on her back. With one hand on her hip, the other wrapped around hers, he leads her around the room in time with the music. He finds himself getting lost in her eyes, wondering, if, just if...

He spins her, catching her in his arms before dipping her back. When he brings her up again she slightly loses her balance and falls against his chest. With an embarrassed look, she opens her mouth to apologize but is halted as his hand cradles her face. He leans towards her, eyes locked.

She is unlike any other woman he has known. While she isn't physically beautiful like Clare, he begins to understand the odd way she appraised him that first night. She is like a diamond wrapped in butcher's paper, where as all the women he has met before have merely been rocks wrapped in gold leaf. His heart pounds in his throat as he closes the gap between them, his eyes lost in hers. He is so close now, that he can feel her soft breath against his face.

Belle turns her head and breaks away from his grasp, "I am a bit tired, I think I shall turn in. Good night, Sev," she says quietly without looking at him, before she swiftly walks out of the room.

Sev remains standing there alone, confused. Could it be? Could he actually be falling for this enchanting creature? This witch—this beast? No, surely not. It is true that she is an anomaly, everything that he could ever want in a woman but—but what? She isn't physically beautiful? He genuinely wonders if that is a problem for him, if he could ever get past the fact that while he sees her for who she is, no one else ever will. They would spend eternity together but alone from the rest of the world.

His confusion drives him to polish off another bottle of wine, sitting alone, staring at the fire while he appraises this new, growing set of feelings he has for Belle. He gets up and finds a new bottle and somewhat wobbly he starts walks out of the room. He thinks that he should knock on her door and make her listen to what he has to say. As he nears the entrance to the hallway, he runs into one of the shorter bookshelves, knocking several books onto the floor and causes the wine bottle to splash all over his white shirt. He decides to change his clothes first but in the hallway he stumbles and gets turned around before he starts walking towards his door. As he places his palm on it and pushes, he feels indentations carved in the wood—he opens it up into the forbidden room, only then realizing that it is not his door.

The room is dark and cold but a fire springs up into place as soon as he enters. White sheets cover everything, layered with a thick covering of dust to suggest that no one has entered this room in a very, very long time. He looks around slowly, feeling so out of place that he begins to sober up.

The room is at least twice as large as his and while the covered bed appears to be the largest he has seen, it barely takes up any of the floor space. High posts at each corner are connected to each other with layers of velvet draped across, cobwebs filling every nook and cranny. He looks over to the fire place to discover a large white sheet covering a painting on the wall. Sev deducts that it must be the missing one from the hallway and stumbles to it. With one swift motion he pulls the cover off.

Bright, hazel eyes stare back at him flirtatiously. Soft, delicate white skin is framed by a mound of dark brown curls, tumbling over her shoulders. Her smooth white neck extends down to her ample breast which is cut off only by the green gown she wears. Observing in awe, he sees the person Isabelle used to be. Stepping back, he sits on the edge of the dusty, sheet covered bed, looking upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

A soft, cold voice breaks into his thoughts, "I told you not to come into here."

He whips his head around to see Belle staring at him with a somewhat disappointed look. Her thick, brown hair is loosely braided to one side; she is dressed in her night gown which has slid off of her left shoulder, revealing her bare, scared skin.