Beauty and the Beast

Chapter One

Chapter One:

Isabelle ran on numb legs and feet, desperate to get to her home. It was, indeed, so late - or, perhaps, early - that no one was outside and there were very little lights to guide her frantic approach. The Manor's basket wobbled between her elbow as she ran, breathing hard but unwilling to stop.

Isabelle approached the mishappen, wooden gate and fidgeted with the latch.

"Papa," she whispered, breathless. She managed to open the gate and ran up to the front door. It was unlocked.

"Papa!" Isabelle called, regardless of the ungodly hour. Her green eyes frantically searched the front room, taking in the messes. She did not bother to take off the borrowed, wet cloak as she ran to the small kitchen, greeted with a stench, but not her Papa.

She backed out of the kitchens and ran up the stairs leading to the bedrooms. She barged into her Papa's bedchamber, not able to hear anything aside from her furiosly beating heart.

A sob of releif escaped her when she saw her Papa sprawled across his bed, still in his clothing. She allowed herself a few moments to catch her breath before she slowly approached him. He was snoring, and Isabelle moved some of his grey hair off of his forehead.

"Papa," she whispered and lent down to kiss his forehead.

She, calmly, went downstairs and took off the borrowed, dark blue cloak. She walked over to their fireplace and draped it over a chair close to it.

Three days, she reminded herself. She'd have to leave her Papa alone again in three days. She stripped herself of her own, thin cloak and laid it next to the former. She took the basket to the kitchen, realizing the first lights of dawn were making their way through the thick forest trees visible from the kitchen window. Isabelle sighed, her fatigue overwhelming. In some recess of her mind she knew that a day of berry picking should not have gone so horribly wrong.

Isabelle took the wet blanket off of the basket of bread, still able to smell its warmth. She smiled and stuck the loaves on the counter, usually bare of breads and grains. She then went back upstairs, to her own bedchamber. It was very tidy, and rather bare. The only furniture in the room was a small bed, a small dresser, with a simple mirror on the wall. Isabelle didnt bother to change into her night shift before she let the warm recesses of her bed, and sleep, consume her.

_____

"Where is Lumiere?" the Master's voice boomed when his butler was no where to be seen at breakfast. Cogsworth looked at his habitual pocket watch, mentally begging Lumiere to hurry up.

"My Lord?" Lumiere walked into the breakfast parlor, alight with the first morning rays of sunshine. The parlor was very pleasant, with soft yellows and blue-striped wall paper. The best feature was the wall of floor to ceiling windows looking out into the dense forest.

Cogsworth tried to make his relief imperceptible, but gave Lumiere a look that said, "Cutting it close, my friend."

Lumiere merely lanced at Cogsworth before addressing the Master again.

"What is on the agenda for me, today, Sir?" he sat down, his long and lean legs making him look a little too tall for the chair.

The Master was standing by the window furthest from his servants, his back to them as he looked outside. He was imposing on his maroon throne, but even more so standing. He had broad shoulders, and was very tall. He was already dressed for the day, his dark brown riding pants tucked into black boots, a dark green riding coat to complete it. The front of his attire remained a mystery to Cogsworth and Lumiere.

"Go get the girl, Lumiere," he said after a few moments.

Cogsworth blood pressure went through the roof and Lumiere shifted uncomfortably.