Beauty Within

by Emily L Goodman

  “It used to be my favorite,” Griffin admitted a little wistfully.

  Callista frowned, a sudden thought occurring to her. “You can have chocolate, can’t you?” she demanded. “I mean, the curse didn’t—”

  “My digestive system is the same as ever,” he informed her, clearly amused. “The trouble is, I can’t go down to the town to get it!”

  “Oh.” She frowned again. “But your cook—Mrs. Martel— could make it for you, couldn’t she?”

  “She’s never been able to duplicate it.” Griffin sighed theatrically. “It’s an ‘old secret recipe,’ and the sweet shop owner has refused to share it no matter how much he has been offered for the pleasure.”

  “That’s a shame.” Callista made a face.

  “Ah, there are plenty of favorites I can have right here—and we’re having one of them tonight.” He offered her his arm with a graceful bow. “I hope you like lamb.”

  “It’s one of my favorites,” she admitted with a broad smile.

  “Well, then, prepare to be delighted.” Griffin led her toward the table. He was doing his best to be polite, but Callista could see his delight: he was overwhelmed with the fact that she’d come back, that she cared enough that she hadn’t forgotten him. She hadn’t even needed Hemsworth to prompt her; if she hadn’t lost track of time, she would have been up at the castle within an hour or so of lunch.

  The problem was that she had rather thoroughly lost track of time. First it had been Arabella and Juliette; and then halfway through lunch, Barrett had decided to serenade Arabella with more of his terrible poetry; and since Frederick had been lurking in the background, Arabella had gone into a fit of giggles about him the moment the boys had finally left…

  It had been a wonderful afternoon. There was something truly magical about spending time with other young ladies—something Callista had never experienced before, had never thought she’d have the chance to experience. As it turned out, she quite liked her own gender, even though Arabella and Juliette were a bit silly and they’d seemed unable to hold onto the concept of where she was staying and why for more than a few minutes at a time.

  Was that part of the curse? It occurred to her that if she asked Griffin, he would probably tell her; but he looked so overjoyed just to have her back from town that Callista was reluctant to mention it to him again.

  He turned to look at her at just the wrong moment, though, catching her pensive expression before she could wipe it from her face.

  “What is it?” he asked immediately.

  “I just—” Callista sighed. She had promised that if she had questions, she would ask them instead of just wondering endlessly. “I was wondering,” she admitted.

  He leaned in toward her. She thought that, had he a human face, Griffin’s eyebrows would have been raised.

  “Well, I met some girls in town.” She felt a little embarrassed just mentioning it. It seemed silly, now that she thought about it, that she cared quite so much about two girls that she had just met today; but, well, for the first time, Callista had realized just how isolated she had been, growing up with little access to anyone but her brothers and sisters. She wanted to go back and be able to talk to Arabella and Juliette again—and she was suddenly hoping that they wouldn’t forget her altogether now that she was no longer standing in front of them.

  “Yes?” Griffin prompted.

  “I—they had trouble remembering, when I told them where I came from.” She didn’t look at him as she said it.

  He sighed. “That’s quite normal, with the curse,” he reminded her. “It prevents people from remembering that there is a castle here at all, or how to get to it—in short, it makes it quite difficult for anyone to, say, come charging up to the door to slay the beast.

  She flinched. “People wouldn’t,” she began.

  “People very well would,” Griffin retorted immediately. “So I, for one, am grateful for that lapse—but I’m sorry that it’s been uncomfortable for you today.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Callista said quickly. “I mean, I don’t mind them not being able to remember that part. But Griffin…” She sighed. “Are they going to forget me?” Her voice emerged very small.

  He considered her for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted slowly.

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “I would guess not.” He had to think it through. She liked that he was thinking about it and not just telling her exactly what he thought she wanted to hear. “You aren’t actually bound by the curse; and for the most part, Hemsworth has been able to leave the castle without having to re-introduce himself to everyone he’s met every time he steps outside the walls again.”

  “That’s a relief.” She hadn’t meant for it to shine quite so brightly in her eyes, though.

  “Did you like these girls?” Griffin asked politely. She could hear him struggling to put distance in his voice—to keep himself from being jealous? She kind of hoped so.

  “I did,” she admitted. “Not—well—I’ve never had girl friends before.” The admission came a little hard. “You know I’m kind of odd, and I’m not very pretty—add to that the fact that our home is rather isolated, and it was more convenient not to worry overmuch with making friends.”

  “Ah.” Griffin sighed, studying her long enough that it made her squirm. “Well, I suppose it will be good for you, then, while you’re here,” he suggested.

  Her entire face lit up immediately. She could practically feel it glowing. “You mean I can go back?” she demanded.

  “Callista, I’ve told you!” Griffin sounded exasperated. “You’re not a prisoner here! Honestly, you’re free to wander as much as you like. I’d prefer some idea of what your plans are for the day, so that we can make arrangements to spend a little time together occasionally, but I’m not going to trap you in here with just the invisible servants for company! That would be—”

  “Churlish?” she suggested.

  “I was going to say more ‘borderline abusive.’” There was a hint more of the beast’s snarl than usual in those words.

  “I don’t feel particularly abused,” she offered cheekily.

  Griffin chuckled. “Well, good, then,” he informed her. “Then I don’t have to feel badly about the fact that you’re stuck in here with me.”

  “I don’t feel stuck, either.” She darted a glance up at his face before turning hers back down, studying her hands instead of actually looking at him. “I—missed you today, a little.”

  “Did you?” That got her a smile. She could hear it in his voice even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” he suggested. “I can’t go into town myself, but perhaps I can see it anew through your eyes.”

  “I’d like to share it with you,” she admitted. “You’ll probably think it’s silly—I mean, you grew up here, and I’ve seen it all for the first time, so—”

  “I daresay it’s changed a bit since the last time I saw it.” There was a hint of sadness in those words that tugged at Callista’s heart.

  “Not so much, I think,” she informed him. “Most of the town looks like it hasn’t changed much in years. It just feels so solid.”

  “Solid, huh?” He grinned—really grinned, as though he had managed to set disappointment aside just that easily.

  It made her smile back at him immediately. “Solid,” she repeated. “And…lasting. Like it’s the kind of city that won’t quickly be forgotten by the ravages of time.”

  “How poetic,” Griffin teased.

  “Oh, no! Not poetry!” Callista laughed. “Apparently, it’s a very ‘in’ thing for the boys in town right now—and all of the girls despise it.”

  Griffin chuckled. “Oh, really, now? And what about you? Do you like poetry?”

  “I like good poetry,” she said cautiously. “But like Arabella and Juliette, I find that I am not overly impressed by the drivel that inexperienced writers attempt to pass off as good poetry.”

&n
bsp; “I share your opinion,” Griffin admitted. “So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t ever write poetry for you, no matter how smitten I become.”

  “I think, given what Arabella has said, that I shall appreciate the lack.” Callista shuddered theatrically. “I can just imagine you trying to warble lines of verse at me all the time—somehow, I think I’ll keep my stories, thank you.”

  “And did you find new stories in town today?” Griffin asked curiously.

  “Yes!” Callista blushed.

  “What kind of stories?” he prompted, when she was uncharacteristically silent on that point.

  “Oh—well—” She blushed brighter. “A couple of romances.” She mumbled the words low, hoping that he wouldn’t really hear them.

  “Romances, hm? I don’t particularly have a taste for them myself, but I understand that they have their appeal.”

  “I like them.” Her eyes flashed fire—she just knew it. She would read almost anything and loved all the wonderful stories she’d managed to get her hands on over the years, but she’d always had a soft spot for romances—for that happily ever after ending when the lady found her true love and they were able to move forward with their dreams together. She secretly wanted that kind of ending for herself—more, perhaps, than was prudent.

  Then again, she thought whimsically, she could yet find her happily ever after ending here, with the man sitting beside her at the dinner table—and to her surprise, she did think of him as a man, and not as a beast. There was something wonderful about being in his company—something that made her smile to come home to him no matter how much fun she might be having in town.

  “Enjoy your romances,” Griffin told her, smiling kindly. “If they make you happy, you may have as many as you like. Did you have adequate funds today?”

  “Oh—I meant to—” She fumbled in her pockets, pulling out the purse he had given her that morning. “Here—I had plenty left over.”

  “You obviously didn’t do enough shopping today,” Griffin teased her, refusing to reach out and take it. “You’ll have to go back another time.”

  “Oh—well, I meant to do more browsing, but I ran into Arabella, and she’s…kind of a force of nature, really.” Callista grinned.

  “You’ll have to tell me all about her,” Griffin suggested.

  Callista hesitated for a moment. Was she going to make him jealous if she kept talking about everything she’d done? He hadn’t been able to go with her—wouldn’t be able to go with her, ever. Would it make him feel more lonely?

  Griffin, however, showed no sign of anything save genuine interest, so Callista, a smile on her face, set to telling him all about her adventures in town that day. Griffin never looked away from her—listened, in fact, as raptly as if she were telling a great story.

  Maybe she was. Maybe simple interaction with others was more exciting than she would have thought previously, before she’d spent weeks of her own trapped here in the castle with no ability to go outside.

  She’d have to go back—maybe take even better care to note what was around her next time. If Griffin liked her stories, she would make sure that there was always plenty to tell him.

  Unfortunately, in order for her to have more stories about going into town, Griffin had to be amenable to letting her go. He might have said that she was allowed to travel freely throughout the grounds and the town as she liked, but Callista was beginning to think that he hadn’t actually meant it at all.

  She hopped up on a counter in the kitchen, idly sampling one of the pastries Mrs. Martel was preparing for dinner, and sighed softly.

  “Is everything all right, dear?” Mrs. Martel asked gently.

  “It’s—yes, of course, it’s fine.” Callista flashed her a smile, but she was well aware that it didn’t meet her eyes. She’d liked going down into town and meeting Arabella and Juliette. Actually, she’d liked the idea of having friends, female friends, for the first time in her life.

  It was just that Griffin apparently didn’t agree with her at all, the beast. When she’d suggested that she go back into town this morning—over a week after she’d been the first time, and she’d finished all of her books already!—he’d behaved like—like—

  Well, actually, beast quite covered it. Callista folded her arms over her chest, feeling grumpy all over again just thinking about it.

  “Hm.” Mrs. Martel studied her for a long moment. “Sometimes,” she said slowly, “it’s very difficult to find that balance—well, where the master is concerned, you know.”

  “He’s not my master,” Callista muttered sullenly.

  “No. No, I suppose he’s not,” Mrs. Martel agreed.

  “He’s my captor.” Never mind that this was the first time she’d felt really trapped in the castle. “I’m stuck here until either the blasted year is over or he decides he’s sick and tired of me—and how is that even fair?”

  “It—”

  “All I wanted was to go for a blasted walk down to the town. But no, he’s in a mood this morning, and so I’m not allowed to go anywhere until he decides that he’s ready to let me go!”

  “You probably shouldn’t leave angry anyway.” Mrs. Martel’s voice was very soft, and now she wasn’t looking at Callista at all.

  Callista frowned. “I didn’t mean,” she began carefully. “I mean, I don’t think—it’s just a trip into town!”

  “And for some—not all, but some—of the people here, ‘just a trip into town’ was all it took,” Mrs. Martel told her gently. “Even people who had been here for a long time. If they left the wrong way, or for the wrong reason, the curse took hold, and they wouldn’t be able to remember him again.”

  “But—” Callista took another bite of pastry before she said something foolish.

  “But you just want to go for a visit?” Mrs. Martel dusted her hands on her apron with a sigh. “Look.” She passed something to Callista: a letter.

  “This is from your daughter?” Callista skimmed it quickly. “Oh, you’re going to be a grandmother! Congratulations!”

  “I may never get to meet my grandchild.” Mrs. Martel’s voice was very soft, and she kept herself busy chopping vegetables instead of looking at Callista. “She’s my daughter, and she wants her mother there when she gives birth. I want to be able to help her—but to be gone for so long?” She shook her head. “I can’t risk it.”

  “Over a job? Surely—”

  “It’s not a job that keeps any of us here—not anymore.” Mrs. Martel shot her a dark look—almost scathing.

  Callista took another quick bite of pastry to keep herself from saying something she shouldn’t again.

  Appeased, Mrs. Martel continued, “It’s love. Griffin’s a good boy, and he’s been dealt a hand no one should have to live with.”

  “Maybe if he were less of an overcontrolling, overbearing—” Right. Pastry. She was going to eat herself silly if she did this every time the two of them had a disagreement for the next year.

  “But even us—well, some of the servants thought they could just take a vacation, come back just like normal when it was over, you know?”

  Callista nodded, her mouth still full. That was probably for the best.

  “But let them leave for more than a few days, and it wasn’t enough. Even the ones who truly cared for him couldn’t—they ended up returning to completely different lives, once their vacations were over.”

  “So you haven’t left the castle at all since he was cursed?” Callista breathed.

  “I don’t dare.” She smiled sadly, tucking the letter back into the pocket of her apron. “My husband is down in the stables—I can go down that far. I could probably even visit the town, if I wasn’t gone for long. But to go see my Lindsey…no, that’s something I can’t do.”

  “I’m sorry,” Callista said cautiously.

  “Don’t be.” Mrs. Martel sighed heavily, but there was determination in her eyes as she went back to her chopping. “Griffin needs people around him to support him. Jus
t imagine if Mrs. Picard and Hemsworth and I weren’t here anymore—what would he do then, the poor boy? No, I’ll stay right here, and not put it to the test.”

  Callista started to tell her exactly what she thought of that—how foolish it was, for example—but something hit her, then, that she hadn’t seen before. “He sent me that first time as a test, didn’t he?” she asked quietly.

  “I can’t rightly say,” Mrs. Martel said quickly.

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “I didn’t discuss it with him.” After a glance up, Mrs. Martel sighed. “But I can tell you that he tends to send the girls down once they’ve been here for a month or so—and that he wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t care about you.”

  “Yeah—cares so much that he keeps me locked up here like a prisoner.” She hadn’t quite lost the sullen note to her voice yet.

  “Maybe so—but look at it from his point of view,” Mrs. Martel suggested. “He’s lost a lot of people that he cared a great deal about over the past few years—plenty of them people that he thought would stick it out with him. Maybe he’s just afraid of losing again.”

  “I’ll talk to him.” But she grumbled as she said it.

  “Just don’t storm off mad,” Mrs. Martel encouraged her gently. “There’s no telling what will set off the curse—and Callista—” She stopped, chewing on her lower lip for a moment.

  “I know, I know.” Callista sighed. “Any one of us could be the one who’s able to fall in love with him and break the spell.”

  The older woman offered her a cautious smile. “Do you really want to leave?” she asked curiously.

  “No.” She folded her arms sullenly again as she said it, though.

  “Then give him a little patience. He’s trying, I think. It’s just been a hard few years for him.”