Loved by the Beast

by T E Elliott

  “You have met my husband, yes?”

  Devereux winked at Léa and answered for her, “We met when she came in, my dear.”

  “I thought as much, but wanted to make sure.” She smiled pleasantly, and they descended the steps as they walked around to the back of the property.

  “Your husband? Do you have children here as well?” Léa was curious.

  “Only my youngest, Édouard, he is Monsieur’s valet. Our other children all have families and employment elsewhere.”

  As they approached the formal gardens, hedged paths and walkways lined with flowers abounded. Léa couldn’t help but perk up at the sight, what a pleasant place to have walks.

  Noticing her interest, the housekeeper took that moment to confide in her, “Monsieur finds comfort here as well. If I might be so bold, Mademoiselle, you have no need to fear, I’ve known him since he was born and have never known him to be anything but kind and gentle.”

  Léa’s heart filled with gratitude for her thoughtful words. “Can you tell me more about him? I’m sure I wouldn’t be half so afraid if I knew what to expect.”

  They began to walk through the gardens together as she continued, “I’m afraid that some things are only for him to tell, but I can tell you that he is thoughtful, even toward his servants, though they are more like family to him. We have been his only companions, aside from his sister briefly, so he is lonely. Of course, none of us can quite fill the longing of his soul for a companion. He is perhaps a little unskilled, shall we say, in conversation, but that is to be expected for someone who has not learned the ways of society. A fact that also makes him less stained by the world’s darkness. He may not fully understand what waiting to marry means in terms of your reputation, so he will defer to his mother’s rather biased opinion. But, I assure you, if I know my master at all, he will not want to compromise your virtue.”

  “Thank you, Madame, your words are a comfort, to be sure.” Léa gave her a warm smile. “You said he has a sister, where is she now?”

  “Lisette lives with an aunt in Paris. She is quite a bit younger than the master and it was agreed that she should not be confined here. She was an affectionate little thing and adored her brother, but he was the one that encouraged sending her away. He wanted her to have a fuller life than he has been afforded. The girl was ten years old when she left here. The Duchesse visits her from time to time, but she has not been back since.”

  Léa still had questions. Why all this trouble? Why was there such a need to hide the man away? She knew Madame Villeneuve would not answer these questions, so she was grateful for the information that she was given and trusted that time would answer the rest.

  They came to the end of the formal gardens where a straight path led to an enormous hedged garden.

  “You may walk in the formal gardens and even the perimeter of the property, but the special garden is Monsieur’s sanctuary. He tends to go there early in the morning and has a way of moving about the house clandestinely, so it is unlikely for you to cross paths accidentally.”

  Clandestinely? Léa thought, That’s rather unnerving. She looked back again at the large private garden. So that was where her father plucked the rose and caused so much grief. She turned her head away; she didn’t want to cry now.

  “I will take you back to your room now so you can rest for a while. The midday meal will be brought there, and you will not be bothered for the rest of the afternoon. Marguerite will be back to help you dress for the evening meal.”

  Léa turned to her and touched her arm, “Thank you. Your words have eased my mind and given me hope.”

  Madame Villeneuve covered the young woman’s hand with her own, “My pleasure. We all hope you will come to be happy here and that you’ll find a companion in the master as much as he’ll find one in you.”

  Léa smiled at the shared hopes of the servants, they truly did care for their master, but it was still too soon for her to share that hope. “Just one more question, Madame, if you don’t mind. Will I meet him tonight?”

  “Yes, at the evening meal, I believe.”

  “She’s here,” Duchesse d'Aramitz poked her head into the garden cottage to tell her son.

  Audric glanced up from what he was reading and nodded his head in resigned acknowledgement then stared down blankly at his book.

  “You shall meet her tonight at the evening meal.”

  His head shot up, a look of genuine terror on his face. “I’m, I’m, not…ready,” he shuffled the papers on his desk.

  “Don’t worry, my son,” she held up a consoling hand, “Lambert and Villeneuve have taken care of everything, you will not be seen.”

  “But…how?”

  “They will show you when it’s time.”

  He nodded his head a few times and cleared his throat. “I’ll, uh, be there.” He managed a nervous smile.

  “Good.” Her face softened from the scowl she’d had all morning. “There’s nothing to fear, Darling.” She moved to leave.

  “Mother?” he called. “What’s her name?”

  She furrowed her brow. “You know, I didn’t think to ask.”

  Chapter 7

  Léa woke from her nap feeling refreshed. She undid her braid and went to the vanity to brush out her hair. A knock sounded at the door and a muffled voice said, “It’s only Marguerite, Mademoiselle.”

  “Come in,” she called back.

  Marguerite stepped in and smiled from ear to ear.

  “I’m here to help you dress, miss.”

  Léa paled, “Is it time already? I must have slept longer than I thought. I’m afraid I haven’t slept well the past few nights.”

  “And no wonder at that,” she approached Léa and moved to take the brush from her, “May I? It will be nice to be a lady’s maid again.” She started brushing through Léa’s hair with skilled gentleness, and the touch of her fingers felt luxurious.

  “Again?” Léa wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “Well, I haven’t had a lady to attend since the young mademoiselle left. I’ve been assisting as a housemaid since then, but I don’t prefer that kind of work.”

  “Could you not find another position?”

  “Oh, no, all of the servants have been here from before the master was born or were hired shortly after under the condition that they wouldn’t seek employment elsewhere. We’ve all been generously compensated, of course. But, we’ve come to love the master anyway and wouldn’t want to move on. He needs us.”

  Léa observed the woman in the mirror, she must have been about thirty-five years old. “How long have you been here, Marguerite?”

  “I was born here, actually. My father is the gatekeeper, and my mother worked here as well before she passed. I didn’t start work in the house till I was fifteen. The master was eight then, and I was his nursemaid until the young miss was born a few years later.”

  Léa hoped that meeting the man would answer some questions about his odd living arrangements. Marguerite set down the brush and went to get the gown out of the wardrobe. As Léa stood to be attended to she continued to probe for information, “So that would make him…how old now?”

  “He just turned twenty-eight. Lisette, the girl, is seventeen. She’s been gone some seven years now. They thought to send me with her when she went away, but the aunt had her own fancy Parisian maids. It would be nice if she would come to visit.” Léa could hear the tenderness and longing in her voice. She must have been like an older sister to the girl, watching her grow from a babe.

  The gown turned out to be a tad snug. Marguerite had to set her corset even tighter than normal and as the cinches of the dress were drawn, her every curve was accentuated. The dress was emerald green and elegantly inlaid with crystals. She hadn’t worn anything this fine even when they were still wealthy themselves. She was embarrassed at how womanly she appeared.

  Upon seeing her discomfort, Marguerite was quick to assure her, “I am so sorry, Mademoiselle, we had to guess at your measurements. Tomor
row new dresses will be commissioned to your preference,” she continued in a gentle tone, “but you do look stunning.”

  Léa laughed through her nose and turned to look at her, “Do you think so?” She turned to the side as she studied herself in the mirror and applied pressure to the bodice in an effort to set it more comfortably. “What will Monsieur Rousseau think of me coming in like some kind of princess?” Léa laughed again, then groaned and arched her back. She did look elegant, but it was not what she would choose for herself. “I suppose it will have to do, Duchesse d'Aramitz would not be pleased if I met her beloved son dressed like myself.” It felt good to laugh and let out some of the tension that had built up all day. She could tell Marguerite failed to see the humor and was a bit confused.

  “Shall we do something with my hair now?” Léa encouraged her.

  The maid gave her a broad smile, “Yes! I thought we could pin it up with this jeweled comb to match your dress.” She picked up one of the combs from the vanity and went to work as soon as Léa sat down. When she finished with the elegant pompadour, she picked up the face powder and rouge. “Oh, no, Marguerite, I couldn’t possibly.” She could see the maid was disappointed, it was clear that she was enjoying dressing her up immensely. “Perhaps another time?” She tried to look into the maid’s down turned eyes. “I’m sure there will be many opportunities for such finery in the future.” She didn’t want to hurt her, but she needed to face this dinner with at least some dignity and a small measure of herself intact. Cosmetics were always Juliette’s forte, not hers.

  “Of course, miss.” She seemed mollified for the present. “Are you ready to join the master in the dining room?”

  Léa took as deep a breath as her gown would allow, “I believe so.”

  Audric fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves and smoothed his hair down. He didn’t know why he was so nervous about how he was dressed, his mother had assured him he wouldn’t be seen. Standing before the mirror, he scrutinized his appearance for a moment then turned abruptly and steadied himself on the post of his bed. He put a shaky fist to his lips, his breathing turned heavy as his chest compressed and his stomach churned. He started pacing anxiously up and down the room.

  When a knock sounded at the door, he jolted. “We’re ready, Monsieur,” Madame Villeneuve’s voice came through. When the door was opened to her, she felt his anxiety immediately. Reaching up, she adjusted his cravat then ran her hands down his arms to smooth the sleeves of his coat. “You look handsome this evening, Monsieur,” her soothing voice gave no hint of question as to why he felt the need to dress so meticulously. “Now relax your shoulders, that’s it, you’re going to be fine.” Dear Madame Villeneuve was like a second mother to him, her presence calmed him and he finally felt ready—almost. “Shall we go down?” she asked. He nodded, afraid his voice wouldn’t cooperate.

  As they descended the stairs, Audric stole a glance down the hall to the woman’s door, the woman who was intended to be his wife. Was she as nervous as he was? What must she think of all this? Or did she already hate him for the circumstances that brought her here? A flood of questions raced through his mind. He didn’t know what his mother had done to persuade her to come, but he doubted that any young woman would rejoice at the prospect of being so isolated, promised in marriage to a man everyone believed to be a beast. Perhaps her motives were purely mercenary, a chance to escape village life and join a noble family.

  They entered the informal dining room, where the family usually ate. Audric knew his mother would stay away, her presence would only make the girl uneasy, she had said. He hadn’t been sure what Lambert and the housekeeper had come up with, but he now saw that they had constructed a sort of partition at the right-hand corner of the room, rather like a confessional booth. A door had been constructed into the side of the makeshift room. As he entered it, he saw a small table and chair set up. The room was dim, with only a single candlestick for light. He sat at the table and looked out. He could see the dining table clearly for the most part, albeit a little shaded and obscured.

  Turning to Madame Villeneuve, who stood in the doorway of the shelter, he asked, “Are you quite sure I cannot be seen?”

  “Yes, quite. The dimness of the room aids that effect. Now, if you don’t need anything else, I need to make sure everything is in order in the kitchen.”

  He stopped her as she prepared to leave, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Monsieur,” she smiled affectionately, “If it helps at all, she is nervous too.”

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly and leaned back in his chair. The quiet of the room settled Audric as the housekeeper exited and he waited for the young lady to arrive.

  Finally, the door opened and Marguerite escorted, not the village girl that he expected, but a fine lady to the head of the table. The maid curtsied and left the room. The woman sat rather rigidly and seemed every inch the haughty socialite. Surely his mother had made a mistake in her choice. Thoroughly intimidated, but needing to speak, he cleared his throat and called out, “Good evening, Mademoiselle.”

  Léa jumped in her seat and scanned the room. Was his infirmity that he was invisible? Good Heavens, of course that’s not it, she thought. “Where are you?” she said more calmly than she felt.

  “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you but didn’t know how else to manage it. I am behind the partition, straight ahead and to your left.”

  As she turned, he saw her face full on. The gentle curve of her jawline, her olive skin, her soft brown eyes. “You’re…so beautiful,” he said softly.

  Léa thought he almost sounded sad or disappointed. Between her nerves and the odd tone of his voice, she laughed. “If I may be so bold, Monsieur, you seem unhappy to find me so. Does my appearance not please you?”

  Her laugh softened her formerly austere appearance and had the effect of butterfly wings inside his chest. “Oh, no! Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I just, uh…” he swallowed. The truth was he was so self-conscious of his own appearance, that he thought surely someone so lovely who likely had scads of men after her, would be even less likely to accept him than if she had been plainer herself. He finally decided on a safer route for the conversation, “What is your name?”

  Léa tucked her head and couldn’t keep from laughing softly again. “My name is Léa Du Bois.”

  “Why do you laugh?” He started to fear she was laughing at him.

  “Forgive me, Monsieur, let me explain. You see, when I was born, so many people told my parents what a beautiful child I was, that everyone just started calling me ‘Beauty’ and the name has persisted through the years. I’m afraid neither you nor I can escape my appearance, even if we wished to.”

  His fears were beginning to be solidified, of course she was known for her beauty, what was his mother thinking?

  At his silence, she grew serious again. Did he think her vain?

  “Monsieur?” Her eyes roamed the screen.

  “And what would you prefer I called you?” He didn’t want to presume to use a name likely given affectionately by friends and family, but he also didn’t want to call her something that she wouldn’t respond to.

  Léa was silent for a moment. She was struck by his consideration to her preference. Of course, she’d always been called ‘Beauty’ and that was what she was accustomed to, but it brought her no joy to be seen for that alone. Could she be known for something more in this house, with a man she did not know and could not see? One who seemed to dislike her appearance, or at the very least, was indifferent to it. The villagers called him a beast. Beauty and the Beast, she thought, If all they see is my beauty, could there be something they are missing in the beast as well? Finally, she looked straight at the partition and said, “I would like for you to use my given name.” Though he wasn’t pushing for the information, she felt compelled to explain anyway, it is always easier to speak one’s heart and mind when not face to face with a person. “Though I have not been called by that name for many years, I
should like to be known for who I am, rather than how others perceive me.”

  Audric stared back at her then, surprised by her words. He touched his face and for a brief moment thought that he should come out then and there to show her who he truly was. But, then again, what he looked like was not all there was to him either.

  The main door opened, dispelling the moment, and several servants brought in trays of food, setting each one down before Léa on the table. A few branched off and brought trays of food through the partition door, taking care not to let their master be seen.

  After they left, Léa tried to lean in to take a sip of her soup and immediately sat back up again. Curious, Audric thought, did she spill something on herself? She took a moment and adjusted herself and leaned in again, only to sit straight up again. Setting the spoon down, she glanced tentatively at the screen. She seemed quite uncomfortable, but why? Audric observed her rigid posture and adjustments to her gown.

  “Are you uncomfortable, Léa? Is it your dress?”

  At the sudden rosiness of her cheeks, he realized he’d said the wrong thing.

  “Please forgive me, Mademoiselle,” he cleared his throat, “I should not have presumed, that is, I should not have made such an inappropriate comment. I’m terribly sorry.” He sat back in his chair and blew out his air, covering his face with his hand.

  Léa was heartily embarrassed. The tightness of the dress was preventing her from leaning forward sufficiently to eat her soup, and now she was mortified that he had noticed. She took a breath and made a decision, it wouldn’t do to let this ruin the evening. Madame Villeneuve said he wasn’t comfortable in social situations, why make them both embarrassed?

  “It is,” she answered kindly, “I’m afraid they didn’t know my measurements when they bought this dress. It is beautiful, but I’m afraid I’m not used to such fine things and can’t help but fidget.” She sent a good-natured smile in his direction.

  He lowered his hand and looked up slowly. Perhaps he’d misjudged her haughtiness.