Only Skin Deep

A Bad Idea

The news of Belle’s return spread quickly throughout the village the following morning. Speculation was rife as to how she had escaped the clutches of the fearsome beast, and whether or not he would reappear. Many of the villagers dropped by the cottage to welcome Belle back, in the hope of hearing her story. They all left unsatisfied; Belle revealed none of what she had to her mother and siblings.

Since returning home, Belle had barely left Maurice’s bedside. When he was awake she would tell him stories and sing to him, often with Angelique cuddled up beside them. While he slept, she would dab his burning forehead with a cool damp cloth and read quietly beside him. After her second night of waking up in a panic from frenzied nightmares, she lugged her quilts and pillows into the twins’ room and made herself a makeshift bed on the floor. But throughout everything she did, a small part of her mind remained back at the mansion.

As her first week back turned into her second, one of Belle’s fellow barmaid friends turned up at the door to see her.

“Come down to the tavern for a while,” Josephine had pleaded. “I’ve hardly seen you since you came home, we all miss you.” After much encouragement from Mrs Saint-Clair, Belle finally relented to visiting her former place of work for a short time.

As Belle entered, and she couldn’t help but smile at the memory of her last time she had been in the tavern. The familiar sound of clinking glasses and the murmurs of conversation filled her ears, and she was greeted warmly by everyone she passed on her way across the room. Josephine waved merrily at her from behind the bar, beaming.

“You came!” Josephine called as Belle approached.  She quickly filled a tankard and passed it across the bar. “There’s an empty table over there, I’ll join you in a second.” Josephine gestured to a table near the bar, and Belle made her way over.

She had barely sat down when the door to the tavern swung open and the cold sting of night air swept through, sending a wave of shivers around the room. In strode the imposing figure of Gaston Beauchamp, his long cloak drawn tight over his broad shoulders against the chill. His eyes swept the tavern and lingered on Belle’s table only for a second, before he crossed to the bar and dropped heavily onto a stool. He motioned wordlessly to Josephine who quickly poured a tankard of ale and placed it in front of him. Gaston had drained half of it before she’d even slipped back out from behind the bar and over to where Belle sat.

Josephine glanced back over towards Gaston. “Did you know that he’d been planning a rescue mission?” she said in a low voice, nodding in his direction. “If you didn’t come back when you did, I reckon he’d have been up there within the week.”

Belle scoffed. “He was sure taking his time, not that I needed rescuing.” Her sharp tone caused Gaston to raise his head from his tankard and glance in their direction, before he lowered his eyes once more.

“I think he felt responsible,” Josephine sighed. “He was in here every night.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a change,” Belle muttered.

“Belle…” Josephine began wearily, but was interrupted by a rather drunk villager lurching over to their table.

“Annabelle!” he slurred, smacking his hand down on the table. “Good to see you back, girl!”

Belle forced a smile. “Thank you, Mr Borde.”

“Don’t know how you did it Belle, ,” he continued blithely. He leant over the table towards the two girls, causing Belle wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of ale on his breath. “How you got away from that creature I’ll never know…”

Belle pursed her lips. The man ploughed on.

“Though if you ask me,” he said, raising his voice slightly, “we don’t know what that foul thing is planning next. He could be back down here tomorrow to make off with more of our women!”

Josephine shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced sideways at Belle, sensing her building anger. “Can I get you a glass of water, Mr Borde?” she offered brightly. “Maybe something…”

The drunk waved her away, spreading his arms wide for his audience. “We need to get up there! We need to storm that mansion and take that horrible beast…”

“His name,” Belle interrupted loudly, casing several patrons to look round, “is Alexander.”

There was a silence, during which Belle stared moodily down into her drink.

“Belle?” Josephine placed her hand on Belle’s shoulder, but she jerked it away and rose to her feet. Gaston was gazing solidly at her from across the bar.

“I’m going home,” she stated bluntly. “This was a bad idea. I need to be with Maurice right now.” She swept Alexander’s cloak around her and left the tavern without turning back.