…Confronting the Constable, watching as he knocked his chair to the floor in surprise…
…The maze of doors at the mental asylum, finding her father’s room vacant, not knowing where her Papa was…
…Running into the courthouse to find him in chains, embracing him, calling out for mercy on his head…
…The sound of the gavel granting her Papa his long-awaited freedom.
Oh, it had been a long day indeed. She snuck back out of her room and into the kitchen, where she found a small bottle of sherry, and took a deep swallow to help slow her circling thoughts and ease her into dreamland, where she might meet with Frederick and find comfort in his arms once more.
With the effects of the alcohol easing her mind, she tumbled back into her little bed and fell into a fitful sleep. But in her dreams, she wandered her village alone.
Where is my Frederick?
“Fairies, help me find my lover,” she whispered to the night sky.
The stars looked down on her without answer. There were no fairies here.
There was no Frederick in her dreams that night, either. Perhaps Frederick truly was imprisoned in the castle, and could only be found within its stone walls.
“Frederick?” she called out. “Where are you? Can’t you find me here?”
But he could not, and he did not come to her.
That night, and every night thereafter that she slept in the small cottage, she slept alone.
And so Belle and her Papa spent the days as they used to, enjoying each other’s company, the warmth of home and hearth, and each other’s loving presence that had been so sorely missed—the love that only a father and daughter can share.
On the seventh day, however, Belle knew her time with her Papa had come to an end. She waited as long as she could, not wanting to ruin their last moments together. Still, she had to say goodbye, so that he wouldn’t fret over her disappearance.
“Papa?” she said, sitting across from him in front of the fire.
He smiled at her, and it distressed her to have to tell him she was leaving. But she must.
“As much as it pains me to leave you, Papa… I must go tonight, and return to the castle.”
“The castle?” he repeated, his eyes betraying his disbelief at her words. “Back to that Beast? No! He’s an animal, a monster—”
“No, Papa—”
“You are free, you are home with me! You must never go back there. I forbid it.”
“It has been a week,” Belle said. “I promised the Beast I would return. And…I
want
to, Papa. I want to go back.”
“He’ll keep you forever in his dungeon!”
“No, not the dungeon. He’s given me a lovely suite, and a library even. The Beast is taking very good care of me. He cares for me, Papa. And I for him. He’s good.”
“He is not
good
, Belle. You have been hypnotized by his magic. He is evil.”
“You are wrong, Papa—”
“I will call the Constable and have him talk sense into you, if you won’t listen to reason!”
“Please, Papa, it is
you
who must listen to reason.” She took a breath to steady her voice, and held his hand. “If you tell anyone,
anyone
, that there really is a beast, they will lock you back up in the asylum. I’ve already told Mrs. Sharone and the Constable that your weak vision made you see a beast where there was merely a deformed man wrapped in a fur.”
“My vision is as clear as it ever was!” he huffed indignantly. “I know what I saw. I know what that thing is, that
Beast
. And you are
never
to return to him.”
“I told them I had been staying with him to help him, and you must tell them that again.”
“I will do no such thing!” His voice rose, his brow furrowed with anguish.
“I care for him, Papa.”
“That castle is enchanted, darling,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her, or refused to believe. “You’re under a spell, you are confused. Once you’re safe at home with me for a while, you’ll forget all about him.”
Belle dropped her face into her hands. How could she make her Papa understand?
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stroking her hair. “I have no idea what torture you’ve been through at his hands. But know this—every day and every night while you’ve been gone, I’ve been in that asylum, listening to the ravings of lunatics around me, and fearing the worst.”
“No, Papa…”
“I imagined you chained in that dungeon, lying on the dirty hay behind those bars. I imagined the Beast hovering over you, his teeth dripping with blood, tearing into you. I would wake up in the night screaming from my nightmares, screaming about you, about the Beast. It is no wonder they thought me insane.”
“Let me ease your mind, Papa,” she said softly. “Imagine me instead, dressed in a stunning gown befitting a princess, sitting happily in an enormous library filled with books upon books, reading to my heart’s content. Imagine me sleeping at night on a fine feather mattress in my own suite filled with roses, with fairies seeing to my every wish. Imagine me dining with the Beast, enjoying long conversations about everything and anything. He listens to me, Papa. He
listens
. He cares.”
“Has he ever hurt you, Belle?”
She couldn’t reply. How could she tell her father that yes, the Beast may have hurt her, but she found herself
liking
it? How could she explain to her father that the Beast would never harm her, and that harm was different from hurt?
“He has, hasn’t he.” Her Papa shook his head, moaning in distress. “My poor Belle, you will never go back to that monster. You are safe now.”
“Let’s not speak of it anymore,” she said finally. “Let’s remember fondly the week we had together. I love you, Papa, but I am no longer a child. You cannot keep here against my will.”
At this, her father stood. “Belle, you may be grown, but you will always be my little girl. Always. Time can’t change that. When you have a child of your own, then you will understand.”
Belle couldn’t wait much longer. The sun was setting, the day almost done. She placed a tender kiss on her father’s head, and resigned to her bedchamber to gather up what few mementos she had, to remind her of her dear father when she was back with the Beast.
It was then that she heard the click of the lock turning on her bedroom door.
“Papa?”
She ran to the door and pulled on the knob, already knowing that it wouldn’t open. He had locked her in!
“Papa, please, you must let me out. You cannot keep me here like a prisoner!”
Her father’s voice came back through the wooden door. “It is better I keep you as a prisoner here at home, where you will be safe, than allow you to return to the Beast.”
The sun had set, the day was done. She was late, late returning to the castle! What would become of her, what would become of the Beast?
She searched her room frantically, overthrowing the bedding in her haste. If she didn’t return to the Beast at once, he would think she had forgotten him, he would think she no longer cared.
Where is the golden ruby ring?
How could she have misplaced an item of such utmost importance—the one thing that would get her home safely and immediately?
Home…is that what the castle, her prison, had become? Yes, yes, it was so. No longer her prison, the castle was the one place she most wanted to be. Home, with the Beast, with Frederick.
Belle picked up the Beast’s looking glass, hoping against hope that its magic would still work outside the confines of the enchanted castle.
“Please, looking glass,” she whispered to her own reflection. “I want to see the golden ruby ring. Where is it?”
The glass fogged up, obscuring her reflection.
Please, please, be in my room
. Then the glass cleared once more, and she found herself staring at the golden ring…sitting atop her father’s dresser, in his bedroom.
It may as well have been an ocean away.
Belle ran to the door and pounded on it with all her might. Her fists bruised with her efforts, and she cried out to her Papa to let her go.
“Belle, my child,” he sobbed through the door. “Don’t fret so. I love you with all of my heart, I have to keep you safe, don’t you see?”
“Let me go, let me go,” she cried. “You don’t understand!”
“Please, sweetheart, just go to sleep. Tomorrow is another day, you’ll see things differently once you’ve slept on it.”
How could she sleep? She took her hairpins and tried, in vain, to open the lock on the door. Nothing worked. It seemed her father had blocked her only exit with something heavy, the sofa perhaps, or the kitchen table. The door would not budge.
How could he be so cruel in his kindness?
Belle finally passed out from exhaustion, leaning up against the locked door, her cheeks stained with her tears, her eyes swollen and heavy.
As dawn broke on the eighth day, the meager sunlight reaching through the one small window in her room (too small to break and climb out of, for she had already considered that option), she picked up the mirror once more.
“Show me the Beast,” she whispered. Belle only prayed she wasn’t too late.
For some reason, she expected to find him prowling the great hall, stalking the castle entrance, awaiting her late return. He would spank her, surely, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be with him.
Instead, as the fogged mirror cleared, she saw the Beast lying just outside the castle door, his immense body sprawled across the stone, his heavy mane falling over his face.
His muscular chest, bared to the morning sky, was so very still.
“Beast?” she whispered, though she knew he could not hear her.
Then, a slight movement. Not much, but his chest rose and fell, a tiny bit. He was still breathing!
Thank the Lord.
His words came back to her…
If you do not return within one week, I will die.
At the time, she thought he meant of loneliness, that he would be heartbroken and would suffer greatly. What a fool she was! In a castle filled with enchantment and magic, how could she be so blind?
The Beast was dying, literally dying, because she had broken her promise. She had sworn, sworn on her life, and he had so quickly turned it around onto his own.
She was killing him.
With renewed urgency, Belle raised her fists to pound on the locked door, to insist that her father let her go.
No, don’t!
She paused. As frantic as she was, if her Papa knew that she still wanted to leave their cottage, he would never open the door.
So, with great effort to behave in a calm and resigned manner, Belle softly knocked on the door.
“Papa?” she called quietly, meekly.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve slept outside your door, all night.”
“Papa, you were right. May I have some tea? My head hurts from all the shouting last night.” She hesitated. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to upset you so.”
An audible sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the door.
“One moment, Belle—I’ll bring your tea to you.”
Belle stood, gripping the mirror in one hand, and waited by the door.
What was taking him so long?
Was he on to her?
Finally, she heard her father push something heavy away from the door, and the lock clicked open.
“Be careful, sweetie, the tea is very h—”
Belle pushed past her father, knocking the tea to the ground, the delicate teacup breaking into pieces. But there was no time to turn around, no time to apologize.
She ran into his bedroom and slammed the door, locking it.
“Belle!” he yelled. “Come out here this instant, young lady!”
The only reason he wasn’t as panicked as he should have been was because she hadn’t gone for the front door. He didn’t understand that there were other means of leaving the house. But he would soon.
The golden ring gleamed from his dresser top. Without pause, Belle slipped it onto her finger and twisted it. Once. Twice.
“I love you forever, Papa,” she cried out.
Three times, and she was gone.
Chapter Eleven
The air shimmered
around Belle, the very dust particles themselves seeming to burst into flame. Oh, it was too warm, hot, like being too close to the stove—like being
in
a stove.
But then the shimmer dissipated, and the air around her cooled. The magic settled, leaving her feeling woozy and disoriented.
She looked around for a half a moment, confused—
where is my Beast?
Her luxurious bedchamber in the castle surrounded her. The ring had taken her back to the spot from which she had left, back when the Beast was still alive, when he was still hers.
Belle set the looking glass down hurriedly and ran out of her suite, stumbling down the corridor, passing the portrait of Prince Frederick.
Run, run, find the Beast!
She nearly fell down the grand stairway in her haste, and tore through the great hall, her footsteps echoing off the stone as she ran.
“Beast!” she cried. “Fairies, open the door!”
The fairies complied immediately, the door swung open, letting in a rush of cold air as the heavy castle doors lay ajar. The air was silent, too silent. Not even the whisper of the wind in the trees could be heard. Only the rushing of blood through her ears as her pulse raced.
The Beast lay, so still, on the cold stones at her feet, just outside the door. She ran to him.
“Beast?”
Her voice sounded child-like, scared, to her ears. She
was
scared. Terrified. More terrified than she had ever been when the Beast first loomed over her in that dungeon.
“I never meant for this to happen,” she said to him, but he didn’t open his eyes. “I wanted to be here! I
needed to be here
. God, what have I done?”
He wasn’t moving. Belle’s own breath in the cold dawn air was visible, but his was not. The Beast had no more breath to give.
His fearsome face looked softer in death, as if all of the anger and animalistic tendencies he had adopted over the years had been whisked away along with his life.