Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) (16 page)

“Bring me to my father!” Belle struggled to keep her voice even, to not scream, lest they lock her up herself for hysteria.

“At once, of course, don’t you worry,” the Constable said. To his wife, he said, “Belle has informed me that it seems Mr. Castelle’s delusions are based on a misunderstanding.”

“His poor vision made him see a beast,” Belle said, the lies falling easily off her tongue, “when it was merely a man in a fur coat, a man with a horrible deformity. I’ve been staying with this man outside of town to assist him.” She had no intention of telling them that there really was a Beast. “So we must get my Papa home with me at once. I need your help, Mrs. Sharone, and Constable, sir. I need you to testify that Henry Castelle is neither criminal nor insane.”

Mrs. Sharone looked at her husband, frowning, but the Constable nodded to her, and she sighed heavily.

“I was so sure,” Mrs. Sharone muttered. “Well. We must make this right, then,” she said finally. “Let’s not tarry.”

The three went back outside to the carriage and retraced their path, back to town, and stopped outside of the courthouse. A crowd was beginning to form.

The Constable tossed a coin to one of the men to water and stable his horse while he was gone.

Belle didn’t wait, she ran past them into the small courthouse. Her father stood, in chains, before the judge.

“Your honor!” she called, pushing past the crowd. “Please, your honor, I am not murdered. There has been a mistake.”

Her father’s face lit up. “Am I dreaming? Belle, is that really you?”

“Yes, Papa,” she cried. “It’s me.”

She ran up to him, ignoring the shouting in the courtroom, and wrapped her arms around him. He couldn’t return the embrace with his wrists chained in front of him, but he kissed her face, overjoyed to see his daughter had not been eaten by the Beast.

The Constable and his wife stepped forward, and gave their amended testimony to the judge.

The judge nodded to the officer, who stood near her father, and he took his keys out of his pocket and immediately freed him.

“You are free to go, Mr. Castelle,” the judge said, “with the court’s apologies. We sought justice for your daughter, but it is clear as day that she has not been murdered, nor eaten by a beast. Court is adjourned.”

He banged his gavel, the sharp knock echoing through the courthouse. It sounded like freedom.

Henry Castelle hugged Belle tightly. “Thank goodness you’re all right,” he sobbed. “Did the Beast harm you?”

“Shhh,” she said. She gripped his shoulder and spoke into her father’s ear, her voice low and desperate. “
Never speak of him
. I’m fine. Let’s go home, Papa.”

***

At home, after her Papa had a long hot bath and a good rest, they sat together and she tried to explain about the Beast. But her father would have none of it.

“Please, Belle, do not speak of that monster—it breaks my heart. I just want to be with you, to make up for the time we have lost.”

It had been a long, exhausting day, and here at home, there was no Beast to seek out for relaxing conversation.

She longed for Frederick, as well. The sooner she lay her head on her pillow, the sooner she might see him. At least with Frederick, she could talk about the Beast to her heart’s content.

After supper and reading aloud to her father for a while, they bid each other goodnight with a long, tearful embrace, and she went to her room to sleep in her own bed for the first time since she became the Beast’s prisoner.

It felt good to be home, it did. But she already missed the Beast, and missed Frederick. The events of the day swirled in her mind, over and over, repeating itself endlessly, affording her no rest.

…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.