Beast and Beatrice

Chapter twenty-five - Beatrice

  Beatrice eyed her new husband with concern. He sat beside her on their shared blanket, his plate of food between them barely touched. Occasionally, he rubbed the heel of one hand against his eyes and tugged at his shirt. She knew he was feverish. She could feel the heat coming off of him from here. He probably had a headache and even more aches and pains that he was trying his best to ignore. She worried he was developing the same malady he had nursed her through.

  Everyone else sat around the graveyard, laughing and talking. The elderly musician had rosined up his bow and was playing a jaunty tune. His music had more than a few toes tapping with delight. Young couples danced and cavorted about while the older adults sat and watched. Fortunately, the newlyweds were seated off by themselves.  No one seemed to take notice of the groom's illness.

 Now, if only she could convince her big, strong husband that he was ill and needed care. She had a sneaking suspicion that the man would cut off his right arm rather than admit he wasn't feeling well. Glancing about their quiet, peaceful little corner of the graveyard gave her an idea. She eased herself over to the large headstone nearest them and settled herself comfortably in its shadow.

"The sun is certainly warm today." She commented, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.

  Gilbert nodded his agreement, mimicking the gesture.

"It's much cooler over here in the shade." She patted her lap in invitation.

  Gilbert smiled weakly as he gingerly eased himself down until his head rested in her lap. Most of him was still in the sun, but his head and shoulders benefitted from the shade. Beatrice was pleased to hear him sigh in relief as he settled and relaxed. Gently, she untied the fastenings at his nape and loosened his hair, working her fingers through the thick, dark mass. His eyes closed in bliss, lips curving up in amusement as she played with his hair. Then he captured her hand and kissed her fingers before folding them between his hands over his chest. Beatrice smiled down at him. He yawned widely and, in moments, was fast asleep.

  A group of giggling children raced by with Martine hurrying along in their wake. Catching sight of her aunt, the child veered off and approached the couple. Beatrice smiled in welcome as the little girl stopped beside the gravestone she rested against. Martine glanced down at the man sleeping there, tilting her head in bird-like curiosity.

"Why is my new uncle sleeping again?" She whispered softly.

"He isn't feeling very well, I'm afraid." Beatrice whispered in reply.

"Is he sick like Teddy was?" The child asked, her little brow furrowed with concern.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

  Martine looked from Gilbert to the doll in her arms, then back again.

"Miss Prissy makes me feel better when I'm not feeling well." The little girl gently laid her doll in the crook of Gilbert's arm. "Uncle Bear can hold her until he feels better."

  The sweet gesture brought tears to her eyes, even as Beatrice suppressed a chuckle at the child’s choice of nickname. Before she could utter a word of praise, Martine rushed off to catch up with her new friends. She couldn't help but admire the child's innocent generosity. Martine was rarely without that doll. She carried it almost everywhere. To leave it with another, let alone someone who was virtually a stranger, was a supreme sacrifice.

  Beatrice continued to watch the festivities around them as she sat there in the deepening shadows. The warmth of the day, the delightful music, and muted amusement of the crowd all worked together to lull her into a mid-day stupor. It seemed like only moments later that she was startled awake by sudden movement against her legs.