Deceit: A Beauty and the Beast Novel

Deceit

A Beastly Tale

Part 2

M.J. Haag

Deceit

Copyright: Melissa Haag

Published: July 21, 2015

ISBN:
978-0-9888523-8-9

Cover Design: Melissa Haag

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise without express written
permission from the author.

Chapter 1

Bryn’s muffled sniffles faded as I stepped
into the mists. I didn’t go far before I hesitated. I could see the
hand I held before me but nothing beyond that. Yet, visibility
wasn’t why I’d stopped. Fear held me in place.

The beast had always kept everyone at bay.
Why had that changed? And, why with me? Knowing why he’d gone to
such lengths to trap me within the estate might have assured me.
Then again, perhaps his reasons were something to fear.

The beast’s tail thumped against my stomach,
a reminder of the bargain I’d made. To save my father, I had no
choice but to clasp the tail and allow him to lead me through the
mist. Walking away from my family was difficult, but walking toward
my unknown future was harder.

Instead of leading me to the overgrown yard
just outside of the kitchen, he turned slightly east. It wasn’t
long before gravel crunched under my feet. I frowned at the sound
and at the sudden disappearance of his tail.

“Go where you wish within the boundaries of
the estate. Do as you please, with the exception of leaving,” he
said, as he moved behind me.

The mist retreated with him and revealed a
grand entrance to the manor that he so zealously protected. Three
steps laid with large slabs of natural grey stone led up to a
sheltered court. Great columns of the same stone supported a roof
to protect guests who might arrive during inclement weather.

The claw-ravaged, large double doors stood
open in invitation. Yet, instead of welcome, their gaping maw
conveyed an eerie sense of desolation. With reluctance, I climbed
the steps and entered the beast’s home.

For the first time, I saw the interior of
the manor clearly. Aged décor, perfectly preserved from the ravages
of time, yet marred by the beast’s anger and negligence, drew my
curious gaze. Did he truly only need a maid?

“Should I clean, then?” I asked, knowing he
still lingered behind me.

“Do as you please,” he said irritably.

Taking him at his word, I went from room to
room, studying the place I would now call home. Though I did not
care for cleaning, a good straightening would make it a fair place
to live. As I wandered, I took time to right a tumbled chair or
straighten thrown papers. In some places, shards of broken objects
dusted the floor, and I made note to come back with a broom as my
boots crunched over them.

I lost count of the turns and rooms I
visited while the beast trailed me, cloaked in his now small cloud
of mist. Other than the library, I noted nothing of particular
interest until I reached the second floor.

In the midst of the beast’s destruction, a
single room remained untouched, and I didn’t blame him for avoiding
it. Frills, perfumes, and pillows filled the room with their
noxious pink shades. I had no issue with pink in small doses.
However, what lay before me made my eyes hurt. The only exception
to the overabundance, a set of black, glossy doors, called to
me.

They were set into the interior wall to the
side and begged for the beast’s angry furrows. Yet, none decorated
the surface.

I crossed the pink rugs and opened the door.
On the other side, the wood bore the worst marks I’d witnessed,
gouging so deep only a thin layer of wood prevented a hole. I
gently ran my fingers over the marks, staring at the torn
grains.

As I watched, a piece smaller than a
hangnail twitched, slowly straightening itself to mend the gash. I
would have watched longer, fascinated by the display of
enchantment, but the mess inside the room distracted me. Everything
from the mattress and bed hangings to the inlaid wood patterns of
the floor had been shredded.

“My room,” he said from behind me. “This
room is yours.”

I turned to look over my shoulder at the
pink abomination.

“I’d rather we trade,” I said under my
breath.

I closed the doors and continued with my
tour. For a while, I became hopelessly lost until I came to a
hallway I recognized. It would take me a long while to learn the
layout of his home. My home, I corrected myself.

Making my way toward the library, I decided
to spend my day cleaning it, so I could turn it into my sanctuary.
I wasn’t sure what I would find. The day I’d read to him, I’d only
caught a glimpse of it in the candle light. Today wasn’t much
different.

When I walked into the room, the curtains
still covered the windows, making it hard to see even without his
mist clouding the area. I found my way to the closest window and
tugged the drapes wide open. Light poured in, and I turned to view
the room. A small gasp escaped me at the vastness.

The large room boasted enough furniture for
several sitting areas, though everything was knocked about
haphazardly. Filled bookcases lined every wall, even above the two
doors. The only interruptions were the four windows on the outer
wall and a fireplace near the door from which I’d entered. Eager to
see more, I moved to tug open each curtain and finally saw the
library in full.

Ignoring the beast, I set to work righting
furniture and shoving pieces across the wood floor to the positions
I wanted. Whenever I found a book tumbled to the floor, I set it on
the small writing desk near the center window. Until I had a chance
to discover how the books were categorized and ordered, I didn’t
want to place anything onto the shelves.

I worked for hours until the sudden whoosh
of the fire lighting itself distracted me. A tray of food rested on
a table I’d placed near the first seating arrangement. Wiping my
dusty hands on my skirt, I went to sit and eat while my eyes
drifted over the room, seeking what I would work on next. The area
near where I sat was restored to order. The far side of the room
still needed much attention.

After devouring every bite of fruit and
cheese, I went back to work. By the time the sun set, the library
met my approval, and I began to study the books. I counted
twenty-two floor to ceiling segmented bookcases. In each, there
were at least fifteen shelves. Most were organized by subject, then
author. However, several shelves seemed to be dedicated to a
particular author.

Slowly, I began to see where the fallen
books I had collected belonged and started to tuck them back into
place. One shelf in particular gave me trouble as it towered just
out of my tiptoed reach. Looking down at the lower shelf, I
wondered if it would support my weight.

Rising to two legs, the beast stepped up
behind me, plucked the book from my grasp, and then easily slid it
into its place. Startled, I stared at his furred arm until it
disappeared from view, not daring to turn around.

“Do not climb on the shelves,” he said,
having guessed my intent. “You will fall.”

As quickly as he’d crowded me, I felt him
move away; and I released the breath I’d held. When I looked around
the room, I noticed him in the furthest, darkest corner, his mist
obscuring him. I’d been so engrossed in the library I’d forgotten
his presence.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

A clock in the corner chimed for the half
hour. I glanced at the face, saw how late it was, and yawned.

“Come. Eat. I will take you to your room
afterwards,” the beast said from his corner.

Again a tray with fruits, nuts, and cold
water waited for me on the table. I ate everything then followed
him through the dim, lamplit hallways, memorizing the path from the
library to my room.

He opened the door to the room and stood
aside to let me enter. As I passed him, my arm brushed against his
torso, and he growled. A shiver of fear ran through me.

“Good night,” he said simply and left me
alone in the profusely pink room.

Giving the room a more thorough inspection
than I had the first time, I found the bed soft and inviting, the
wardrobe full of clothes, and a soft cloth waiting by the bowl of
warm water on the washstand. I wiped the dust from my face and
hands then went to the wardrobe and found several nightgowns, all
sheer, with matching sheer wraps. At least they weren’t pink, I
thought as I undressed and slipped into a pale blue one.

I climbed into bed and thought of my family.
I didn’t doubt that the beast had freed them; he wanted me here
willingly, for whatever his reasons. By now, I imagined my family
had returned safely to the Water. Curling onto my side, I wondered
how they would fare without me. Though I hoped that having one less
mouth to feed would ease some of Father’s burden, I knew he would
rather have me home than here. Yet, the beast’s manor didn’t seem
too terrible. I was free to roam inside the manor, regularly fed,
and, so far, no demands had been made of me.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and wondered what
I would do to occupy myself here. As interesting as this enchanted
place was, if the rest of my days followed today, I would grow
bored quickly.

* * * *

The next morning, I rose late and
reluctantly slipped from my warm bed—Father’s mattress could not
compare to the one I now called my own. Fresh, warm water again
waited on the washstand for me to wash my face. I enjoyed not
having to walk outside to fetch my own. However, when I turned to
dress, I frowned in confusion at the empty chair beside the
wardrobe. I was certain I’d draped my only dress there when I’d
prepared for bed the night before.

I opened the wardrobe, thinking it had been
magically placed in there while I slept. Inside, luxurious
diaphanous gowns waited, a pale rainbow of colored skirts. No
doubt, my dress had disappeared so I would wear one of his
choosing. Sighing, I picked one at random. At least I had clothes.
It could be worse, I thought, recalling his wish to see me when I’d
bathed. He might have decided to have me walk about naked as the
sisters did. I only wished I understood his purpose in having me
here and dressing me in such a fashion.

The pale green dress I chose slipped over my
head easily. The layered skirts afforded a shadowy glimpse at my
legs. The bodice flattened my small breasts, making every detail
clearly visible. Chewing my lip, I debated how to preserve some of
my modesty. My eyes drifted to the wraps that I’d deemed worthless
for cover.

I tore off both sleeves of the matching wrap
and folded them in half to tuck the additional two layers of
material into my bodice. It had the desired effect of blotting out
the details while giving just a hint of what the bodice hid. I
stepped into the flimsy slippers that matched the gown and left my
room with the intent to spend the day reading.

In the library, a breakfast tray waited, but
I ignored it to walk to the writing desk and retrieved the book on
farming I’d set aside. It was the one I’d started reading to the
beast, and I wanted to read to its conclusion. I settled on the
sofa near the tray and absently popped a bite of chilled, cooked
meat into my mouth as I found my place.

“Did you sleep well?” the beast asked
softly.

My insides jumped from the start he gave me,
but I only nodded to answer him and kept my eyes on the page. After
a few minutes of silence, I calmed enough to eat and again lost
myself in the book.

“Did you find the clothes to your
satisfaction?”

“Not quite,” I said. “I fear going outside
will give me a chill and be the death of me. I hope in winter I’ll
have something with a bit more substance.”

He snorted but made no comment.

Well after eating my last bite, I finished
the book and closed it with a snap. Intrigued by the problems
farmers faced and the solutions posed by the author, I wandered to
the shelf on farming, replaced the book, and selected another thin
volume, which I brought back to the sofa.

“You like farming?” the beast asked with a
note of uncertainty.

“Not really. But I like eating, and the two
are definitely related.”

He made no response, and I settled in to
absorb the new author’s thoughts. On one topic they both agreed.
Repeated plantings resulted in poorer harvests. However, their
solutions varied. One suggested letting the field lay fallow for
several years. The other suggested the annual slaughtering be done
over the field to slow the soil depletion. I didn’t like the idea
of eating carrots soaked in year old animal blood. I sought out
another’s opinion and kept searching through the volumes until I
had almost twenty books on farming lying on the table next to the
tray. I referenced from one to another until I came to a conclusion
based on several tried methods.