I thought it was as well to remain silent, and she continued without pause.
‘After concluding his business, he realised he had left his three daughters alone, in winter, and thought of nothing else but to return to us as quickly as possible, although he could not bring us any comfort other than his presence.’
At this point she stopped and picked up her wine glass, and drank. I thought she had concluded her story, but when she put it down she looked up at me again and I could see she was making an effort to contain tears.
‘Before he left he asked us if he could bring us anything back, if it was within his power,’ she said. ‘Claude asked for this,’ she waved a hand at the silver dish, ‘and ropes of pearls for her dowry. Marie, who wanted nothing more than her books back, and who knew Papa was unlikely to be able to give her that, asked for gold and jewels. They were only joking. I just wanted something I thought he would be able to get, something that would add a little beauty to our otherwise unlovely house. I asked him to bring me a rose.’
She blotted her eyes with the heel of her hand. And I? I sat silent and appalled, convinced the legs of my chair would splinter and collapse under the groaning weight of the guilt I felt for adding to the burden of her family’s pitiable situation.
‘I just worry about them,’ she said, wiping her eyes again. ‘Claude was making herself ill. She was nearly engaged, you see.’
Isabeau sat up straighter in her chair. ‘We all considered it a certain thing. But he …’ Now I heard an edge of anger enter her voice. ‘When I think of how kind we were to him, how we welcomed him into our family, and how Claude doted on him! I can understand how the change in our circumstances may have made the match impossible. But – the expectations he had given her! And to break it off without a word, let alone a kind one. His behaviour was despicable.’
Now Isabeau’s beautiful eyes were flashing. Her hands clenched the tablecloth with such ferocity I thought she may have been in danger of pulling her meal into her lap.
‘You know,’ she said to me directly, ‘after our situation became known, we did not see or hear from him once. No fond goodbye to Claude, no note to Papa explaining he would be unable to continue his attentions to his daughter. And that would have been a barely acceptable minimum if it was supposed it was simply a match of convenience and not affection! We were all led to believe it was a love match, especially poor Claude! She grew so ill from pining for him we were afraid she would not be able to travel when it came time to remove ourselves to the country. And she still tells herself he will come for her! She refuses to hear the reports of him courting other women and makes excuses for his continued estrangement. He is heartless.’
Now I understood Claude’s sighs after the mysterious Gilles.
‘Of course my heart breaks for poor Claude, but,’ and here she violently speared a morsel of food with her knife, ‘we are thankful she escaped being wed to such a heartless cad. Thankful, that is, provided she doesn’t die of grief as a result. I could not bear watching her languish.’
I frowned, thinking of Claude’s considerable improvement in spirits and wondering if I should show her the mirror. If I did that, I would feel bound to relinquish it to her entirely, as they were, after all, her family. She had a greater right to watch over them than I did. And what if, as I dreaded, watching them from afar was more than she could bear? A cold little fear wriggled through my heart.
‘Would you tell me about Marie? Why do you worry about her?’ I asked to distract myself from such disquieting thoughts. For a moment Isabeau continued to scowl at her plate, then she relaxed her grip on her knife.
‘She is my eldest sister,’ she said at last, settling back in her chair. ‘She didn’t lose a lover when my father lost his fortune, but I think she thought she lost all her prospects of a comfortable future.’ She lifted her gaze to meet mine once more. ‘Money is a great comfort, you know. If you have money and you choose to marry, you can always attract a variety of suitors and take your pick. Or if you choose not to marry, you can still live well. If you have no money, you cannot remain single and live at all comfortably, but you have greatly reduced chances of attracting a tolerable husband. At least that’s what Marie said to me.’
‘Did she not have any suitors?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Oh, some,’ replied Isabeau, ‘but none she really cared for. I think she always compared herself too much to Claude and made herself a little jealous. Marie considers herself to be reserved and doesn’t think she is as pretty as Claude. I think she believes someone like Claude will always be able to find a husband. Claude had dozens of beaus in the city, but her affair with Gilles was rather flamboyant. Everyone talked about it. Of course, this made it doubly humiliating when suddenly he wanted nothing to do with her, but Marie chooses not to think of this and only remembers how glamorous it all was. Poor Marie has worked herself into a state where she believes that money was her sole attraction.’ Isabeau shook her head sadly. ‘I wish I could make her see any amount of money was only the least of her virtues.’
She was silent for a while after this, and I do not doubt she was thinking about the state she had left her family in and how they had been faring since. Eventually I summoned the courage to ask her a question that had occurred to me as she was describing her father taking leave of them last autumn.
‘And you?’ I asked curiously. ‘What do you miss most about your life before?’
‘Me?’ she asked, surprised. Then she frowned. ‘I’m not sure.’ She cupped her chin in her hand, obviously considering the question. ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘what I miss most is just my family’s happiness. Papa looks so old and tired now, and Marie is so bitter and Claude is so ill. That is the thing about money. When you are comfortable, and all the little things are taken care of, it is very easy to be happy. Although …’ She straightened and looked around the room, then back at the table, which was now striving to present her with the most inviting array of desserts imaginable. Then she looked up at me and her smile was wry. ‘You can attest to the fact luxury alone does not happiness make.’
‘Hmm,’ I responded, the sound coming out more like a growl than I had intended. ‘And what of the city?’ I asked, trying to divert her to a less distressing topic for both of us. ‘Do you miss that?’
Isabeau’s face grew thoughtful again and she helped herself to a dish almost absent-mindedly. I was relieved to see the worried lines vanish from her forehead.
‘I never cared much for parties and balls,’ she said. She looked up at me and gave me a small smile. ‘Too crowded. I should have been making the rounds of society with Claude, but I did not like to and Papa never pushed me.’
Her expression changed, as though she was now looking at something far, far away.
‘A few years ago, Papa took us to a party where there were fireworks,’ she said. ‘I would like to see that again. I’m afraid there isn’t much hope of seeing fireworks in our little village.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose at least I can say I have seen them once.’
I smiled to myself, feeling very satisfied.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I can offer you no balls and parties, but fireworks I can certainly manage. Are you finished with your meal?’ She looked at me, her eyes full of surprised delight. I stood.
‘Come with me,’ I said.
Chapter XIV
Isabeau dropped her spoon into her dish with a clatter and rose, her chair sliding back gracefully of its own accord.
‘You can conjure fireworks?’ she exclaimed, hurrying around the table to take my offered arm.
‘But of course,’ I said, smiling down at her. ‘There have been fireworks here before. Why not tonight?’ Isabeau gave me a searching look, and a tiny crease appeared between her brows, but she said nothing further.
As we stepped out into the hall, two heavy cloaks hung in the air, waiting for us. The one clearly intended for Isabeau was lined and trimmed with silver-grey fur. Mine was plain black wool.
‘Ah,
’ I said, remembering the chill in the air earlier. ‘It is rather cold outside, tonight.’ I helped Isabeau into hers and mine dropped around my shoulders.
As we made our way up the stairs, she asked, ‘Beast?’
‘Yes?’
‘Is there anywhere in the house where you would rather I did not go?’ she asked quickly.
The only secret I was truly keeping from her was the mirror in my study, and if she was supposed to find it, I did not think there was anything I could do to stop the house from showing it to her. In fact, as it had certainly not existed in the house before she arrived, there was no reason why one should not simply appear in her own bedroom if it came to that.
‘No,’ I said eventually. ‘I cannot think of any reason why you should not go where you like.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, sounding surprised. I could not help but smile, albeit a little grimly.
‘You will find no forbidden chambers awash with blood in this house,’ I growled, and was instantly ashamed when she flushed bright scarlet. ‘The invisible servants would ensure anything of that sort was cleaned up instantly,’ I said hurriedly, in a feeble attempt to mitigate my lapse into bitterness.
‘I didn’t mean …’ she started to say, clearly struggling to find the words for an apology.
‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘And now I have embarrassed you. Please forgive my thoughtless attempt at humour. You may go where you wish. There is nothing hidden here you must not find.’
She nodded at that, but still looked uncomfortable. I gestured for her to proceed up the grand staircase and she walked ahead of me, following the lamps flaring into life to show her the way up to the roof. We made our way thus, in less than companionable silence, until we reached the final staircase. This was not long, but was so steep a person ascending it could almost reach out and touch the tread level with their nose. Isabeau regarded it with dismay.
‘Are we going up there?’ she asked, peering upwards. I realised it would be difficult indeed for her to make her way up in the dress she was wearing.
‘Ah,’ I said, understanding the predicament, and once again cursing my thoughtlessness. ‘I had intended we should. Perhaps we could …’
There was no other way up to the rooftop balcony I wanted to show her. I racked my brains, trying to think of another place that was easier to reach from which we might have such a view.
‘No, I will chance it,’ said Isabeau uncertainly, gathering her skirts around her.
She began to climb. I waited until she was a few steps ahead, then followed her up. There was a twist in the staircase about halfway up and she paused here to look over her shoulder at me.
‘You see, I haven’t sent us both tumbling to the bottom yet,’ she said breathlessly.
‘If you fell, I should catch you,’ I assured her. She gave me a nervous smile and continued upwards. She did not stumble, however, and we both reached the top unscathed.
‘This way.’ I gestured to a door that led out on to a balcony, set in among the pitched rooftops and turrets at the back of my house. It had a clear, uninterrupted view out over the gardens. It was usually bare when I came up here on my own to howl, but now, of course, a small brazier provided warmth in the chilly air and a pair of comfortable chairs offered a place to sit if we were so inclined. Isabeau walked straight past the chairs and went to stand by the balustrade.
‘We’re so high!’ she exclaimed and pulled her cloak a little tighter around herself. Suddenly the first firework exploded before our eyes and we both jumped in surprise. A moment later the sky above us erupted into showers of gold and silver stars. It was hard not to duck as thousands of sparks rained down towards us, but they vanished into nothingness before they ever got truly close. For a few minutes I watched, rapt, as the brilliant colours dazzled the night sky and then Isabeau laughed out loud beside me. I turned to stare at her. She was leaning forward over the stone railing as far as she possibly could. Her face was entirely hidden by the hood of her cloak, but then she turned to face me. Once more I caught my breath as I saw her eyes, wide and dark, reflecting the night and the fireworks. I had not seen her look this happy and carefree since she had arrived.
‘Thank you, Beast!’ she cried above the screech, as another rocket shot upwards, followed by a trail of smoke and sparks, erupting into a shower of pink and gold above us. ‘It’s lovely!’
I smiled down at her and she smiled back and turned away again to watch a new series of fireworks blossom in shades of silver, blue and lavender across the sky.
I stood for a while longer by her side, then when I grew tired of watching the fireworks, I retired to one of the chairs and watched Isabeau watching the fireworks instead. Despite the chill, something warm glowed within me, as if I had drunk mulled wine, but more precarious and trembling. The comparison stirred an idea, however, and a moment later a steaming jug and two silver goblets appeared on a tray by my elbow. The jug lifted and poured itself into the goblets, then settled back down on the small table that had materialised to receive it. I took one over to Isabeau, who accepted it gratefully.
Eventually the show ended with dozens of gigantic silver fountains sprouting up from the gardens below.
‘That was beautiful,’ Isabeau said with a sigh, turning to lean back against the balustrade.
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ I said. ‘You may have fireworks every night if you wish. Of course, if you don’t want to come all the way up here every night, I can arrange for you to enjoy them from your bedroom window.’
Isabeau gave a soft chuckle. ‘You are too kind,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘But if I had fireworks every night, they wouldn’t be such a treat.’
With no more fireworks to entertain us, the chill soon drove us indoors. When we came to the narrow staircase again we stopped and Isabeau looked down at it doubtfully.
‘Perhaps you should go first,’ she said.
Indeed, her voluminous skirts seemed to give her more trouble descending than they had in the ascent. I tried to stay only a few steps ahead in case she needed assistance and it was well that I did. As I reached the lowest stairs I heard a gasp from behind me and swung about to see Isabeau pitching towards me from above. We were so close to the bottom she would not have had far to fall, but I instantly reached out to catch her. She fell into my arms with no more noise than the sound of air rushing past silk. My strength was more than equal to her weight, but I staggered back against the wall and took a moment to be certain of my balance. She was clutching my jacket with both hands, looking up at me, her eyes wide with fright. She gave another gasp and I could feel her shudder against me. I hoped it was the shock of the fall that bothered her more than the prospect of being held by a beast. But as I set her back on her feet, I saw her eyes flicker across my claws. We both flinched when one talon snagged in the fine fabric of her bodice.
‘I promised I would catch you,’ I said lightly, as I moved away. She took a deep breath and put one hand on the wall. She looked so shaken I braved rejection and held out my hand to assist her down the last few steps. She took it without looking at me.
When we came out onto the landing, she stepped away from me quickly, self-consciously straightening her skirts. The ease of our companionship on the roof had vanished. We barely spoke as I walked her back to the hallway leading to her room. We bid each other goodnight and I watched her walk away down the hall, the memory of her enjoyment now nothing but a strange, twisting ache in my belly.
Chapter XV
I didn’t want to retire straight away. If nothing else, my cursed Beast’s senses could discern the ghost of her sweet scent on my own clothes and I couldn’t bring myself to change. So I went to my study. I pushed the door open to find the room almost in darkness. Only one candle was alight, set into a heavy silver candlestick on the mantelpiece under the curtained mirror. This was a sure sign something of interest was about to be shown to me, so moving the candlestick aside, I drew the curtains.
The mirror cleared
and showed me Marie in her nightclothes, sitting at the kitchen table, preparing to write another letter to Isabeau. She had evidently been writing in her book as well, for it was open beside her, with two pages covered in her elegant script. As I watched, she finished sharpening her pen and took up a sheet of paper. As before, I could hear her voice, as though she were reading to me.
‘Dear Isabeau, I am writing again to give you an account of how we are faring, as I promised. The last week has been significantly more bearable than the previous one. Do not mistake me – we are all working hard and thoroughly worn out by the end of each day, and both Claude and I have certainly found a share of chores we would be happy to never do again. But it seems we have both found our place in the house and are now able to be – dare I say it – cheerful about even the most disagreeable of tasks. Even Papa has rediscovered some forgotten carpentry skills and declares he will build me a henhouse. Although, the other day, he hit his thumb so badly with his hammer his thumbnail has turned all black. Before that, however, he had managed to dig me two beds, which is to be the beginning of my new garden!
‘You see, my new friend was as good as his word. I have been back to Madame Minou’s several times now. She is glad of the help I can offer and her advice on cooking has been invaluable. I must tell you I find cooking immeasurably rewarding. There is something almost alchemical about taking all those raw ingredients and turning them into something that sets the mouth watering and the stomach growling.
‘Of course, I cannot pretend it is anywhere near as elegant as those pursuits I used to enjoy. But it is a different kind of accomplishment, when we have all been working hard all day, to have created something Papa and Claude find so satisfying and delicious. I get a warm glow when I see them stretch out after dinner, as full and sated as your old cat used to get. And there is the other piece of news you will welcome – Claude is eating properly again, thank heaven. And I have not heard her mention you-know-who for days.
The Beast’s Heart Page 10