A chiming bell woke Beatrice.
She was still curled on the window seat. Outside, the last dregs of sunset rimmed the sky, evening steadily soaking the world in darkness. She sat up, a blanket falling from her shoulders to pool at her waist. She stared down at it. Had Emmerich placed that on her?
Scrubbing her face with one hand, Beatrice swept back the curtain. Warm lamps lit the room.
She left the library and walked to the dining room. It was empty. She carried on to the kitchen.
Emmerich stood from his seat at the table. “I was about to fetch you.”
“I was in the library.”
“I know.”
An awkward pause. She wondered again if he had covered her. Had he heard her crying?
He gestured at the seat across from him. “A chicken pot pie for dinner.”
She sat. “It smells good.”
He drew away the cloth covering the pie. “It’s my favorite. If you have any favorite—”
“I’m fine.”
He nodded and dished out big spoonfuls of pie. He moved slowly, fingers carefully wrapped around the ladle. With as much care, he picked up his fork.
His muzzle contorted into the semblance of a smile. “I’ve been practicing since last time.”
“That’s good.” She crossed herself and whispered her blessing. When she looked up, he was watching her.
“You still believe,” he said. “Though your people have rejected you.”
“Why would I blame God for decisions other people make?” She fiddled with a fork and thought about Billy, his bandages, and Mrs. Matthews’ rage at her husband. “I don’t always understand, of course, and maybe everything is too new for me to be angry yet. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow morning furious at what’s been allowed to happen.” She scooped up some of the food and tasted it. It was very good.
They ate in silence for a time. Halfway through his second helping, Emmerich set his fork down with a soft growl.
Beatrice asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this.” He stared down at his food for a moment, looking lost. Then, he raised his head.
It was that expression again, from earlier. The one that passed quickly through his eyes. This time, though, it sat still long enough to be identified. It was longing, mingled with hope.
“What can’t you do?” she asked, her voice soft.
“I have lived in this house for nearly a century with only faceless, voiceless magic for company. If I go into the town, no one can see me. I have watched people come and go. It was maddening. After a time, I stopped going out. Then you came that day, to the garden. I watched you move among the flowers. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to speak to you or find some way to run you off. Then, you cut the rose and suddenly…”
“Suddenly, you were there. And you scared me.”
“You saw me. I wasn’t expecting that.” He flexed his hands. “I shouldn’t have let you take the roses. I should have scared you away. But I am a selfish beast. I didn’t go with my son that day he went hunting, though I should have, because I was busy. Busy doing what? Gardening. And just as my wife died, she cursed me to loneliness. I let you take the roses because I couldn’t stand being lonely anymore. I counted the days between your visits. Now you’re forced to be here when you shouldn’t be.”
“Don’t blame—”
“Stop. I know what to do.” He stood.
“Emmerich, where are you going?”
“All darkness has a source. I know where the source of the Guardian Woods’ darkness is. It must be what controls the Haunted Ones. If the Haunted Ones are no more, then you can go home.”
Understanding went through Beatrice like a shock. She shot to her feet. “You can’t go into the Woods!” She rounded the table and grabbed his shirtsleeve. “What if you die?”
He cupped her face with a hand. His thumb rubbed her cheek. For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something. But his mouth closed. He shook off her hand.
And then he was gone, the back door swinging closed behind him.
She ripped it open, looking out into the gathering dark. At the still and empty garden bereft of his hulking figure.
She screamed, “DON’T GO!”
The magic didn’t even let her be distracted by clearing away dinner things. The food and dirty dishes vanished as soon as Beatrice said, mostly to herself, that she wasn’t hungry anymore.
Upstairs, fresh, hot water waited for her in the pitcher. The covers on the bed had been pulled back. One of her nightgowns was laid out on the bed. A lamp glowed on the nightstand.
Beatrice looked out the window, toward the Woods. Nothing moved in the darkness between trees.
She tried to distract herself by getting ready for bed, taking each step carefully. Then, she said her night prayers, lifting up each one asking for Emmerich’s safe return.
A harsh wind blew outside, wrapping around the house in a keening howl. The rafters overhead groaned.
Beatrice lifted her head from her prayerbook. The roses in their vase caught her eye. Her heart froze in her chest.
They were wilting, their full heads bowing down. The leaves were shriveling.
She stood, book spilling to the floor, and ran to the wardrobe. Flinging it open, Beatrice dragged out her large, heavy shawl. She pulled it over her shoulders. Beatrice lifted the lit lamp and hurried from the room, going down the stairs as fast as she dared.
When she reached the back door, it would not open. She fumbled with the lock. It wasn’t engaged.
“Let me out!” She looked wildly into the dark. “He’s dying.” Tears stung her eyes and dripped down her face. “Let me out, please. I have to try. Please let me try.”
A low pop sounded. She tried the door again and it swung open.
Beatrice ran out into the night.
Click Here for Part Six ** Part Eight will drop April 18
I've always wondered why he became a beast. Disney had one interpretation, but I like yours better. He became a beast because of selfishness and it grew over time and with loneliness.
He finally remembered his humanity and went to help Beatrice. I hope it wasn't in vain.
I love getting to see more of his backstory in this chapter. This story is such a magical and atmospheric take on Beauty and the Beast, and I’m absolutely loving it. I look forward to Thursday mornings!