Beauty and the Beast

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight:

"Gerard?" Leonard approached his partner in the only Pub in town. Gerard had two girls sitting on his lap; both blonde, both giggling.

Gerard was whispering something into the blonde's ear that was on his right leg. Leonard watched as she flushed and squirmed a little bit and mentally rolled his eyes.

He folded his arms, stood remarkably close to Gerard and waited to be acknowledged. This habit of his usually made Gerard's skin crawl: he liked his personal space.

"Leonard," Gerard helped both girls off his lap and slapped their behinds as they walked away, "What?"

Leonard started explaining, "I haven't heard any leads. It's been very frustrating, but none of our connections have staff that dress as finely as you describe. Not even close!"

Gerard's expression grew more annoyed and he grounded his teeth together a little bit. "I do believe we need to think of something else. Have we talked to Maurice? Isabelle would never leave Maurice's side unless he was taken care of. That I know for sure, Leonard. She would do anything for her sick old man."

"I have not gone over there, but what you say makes a lot of sense," Leonard pushed his crocked glasses up on his nose. He sighed, thinking he'd very much like a beer. "Alice?" he called the buxom bartender, "A beer will you?"

They enjoyed their night at the Pub, Leonard having no porblem putting off their little investigation until the morning.

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"Mrs. Potts!" Isabelle walked into the kitchen and found the older woman stewing over their dessert. When she saw Isabelle and the Master she smiled and approached them.

"What are you two doing back here?" she asked, giving the Master a nervous look, "Is the food okay?"

Isabelle noticed the anxiety and turned to her Master with a scowl on her face. "Do you notice it, Master?"

The Master was standing slightly behind Isabelle and had his arms folded across his broad chest. His features were drawn tight but at Isabelle's questions he gave her a flat stare.

"You don't do you?" Isabelle asked again, a little breathless. She turned backto Mrs. Potts. "How long have you served here, Mrs. Potts?"

"Um," she stammered, "Miss Isabelle I have been here since before young Master Adam was born. I served his parents, I did. And my parents worked here before me!"

Isabelle beamed at the older woman and it seemed to help her relax just a little bit. "So this is much your home as it is the Masters?"

Mrs. Potts froze and Adam cleared his throat.

"That is enough out of you, girl," he growled in Isabelle's ear. His hand gripped her arm painfully, and Isabelle couldn't stop the gasp that came out of her from the discomfort. "All of my servants are paid for their efforts on top of having residence at this estate. I will not have you going about spreading the assumption that I do not take care of those under my care!" his voice was low and menacing.

"Then why do they all seem so frightened of you?" Isabelle asked, trying desperately to sound like she was not frightened herself. A stray hair from Cecile's intricate hairstyle came undone and floated in her face.

"For the record," Mrs. Potts chimed in, sounding very nervous indeed, "I do not have a single complaint against you, Sir. But you arearather intimidating man."

Isabelle was glad the women spoke up.

"Good to know, Beatrice," the Master said, "What we both really came in here to do was thank you for preparing the food." He paused and turned Isabelle toward him forcefully, "I have been told not thanking the staff is bad manners even though my home is opened up to them, and they are paid more than enough for their service. I also don't keep them here against their will, correct?"