Beauty's Cursed Beast Read online

  “No kidding? Maybe it’s got something to do with your sunny disposition,” Belle teased. “Are you hungry? I was going to make some dinner. Get better acquainted with Chef Bouche.”

  At this, Adam stiffened and dropped her arm. “I eat alone. You can pick up whatever you like. Call up Harris’ Grocer in town and charge whatever you like to my account. Don’t shop for me, though. I feed myself.”

  Belle touched his arm, but he instantly recoiled. She recalled her professional manners and folded her hands, letting them hang before her. “I don’t mind cooking for the both of us. It’s part of my job: nurse and housekeeper. I wouldn’t be living up to the hype if I let you starve.”

  “I don’t need you to cook for me. I haven’t needed mothering since I was a child. Clean the house if you like. Cook for yourself if you like. Leave me alone to do my job during the day.” He sped up his pace. “I’ve indulged you enough. There’s no need for us to spend any more time together.”

  Belle’s mouth fell open, dumbstruck at having stepped on some landmine in his tightly-woven psyche she couldn’t have seen coming. She made a mental note to ask Chef Bouche about Adam’s eating habits. She was his nurse, after all.

  Belle tucked away her sadness over being snapped at and raised her chin, reasoning that there was work to be done. The castle was a filthy mess. Whether her patient was cordial or not, she had a job to do.

  “Don’t mind the master,” Audra said sympathetically when Belle turned the corner. The white China teapot had been listening in – her golden swirls turning to a nose, mouth, eyes with expressive eyebrows when she spoke. “He’s sensitive about food.”

  “I can see that. I was going to make dinner. Any suggestions?”

  Audra pfft’d irritably. “You’ll find nothing but cobwebs in the cupboards. Make sure to buy all you need to feed yourself. The master doesn’t eat regular food anymore. It’s all I can do to force a cup of tea into him every now and again.”

  Belle rubbed her temples. “What does he eat?”

  Audra looked up, making sure to meet Belle’s big eyes before she answered. “His curse will turn him into a member of the Lupine when he turns thirty later this year. He started eating dog food last year. It’s his way of punishing himself, preparing for the inevitable.”

  Belle’s lips tightened. “But that’s…” She wanted to put to words all the obvious reasons why this was not the way to handle one’s life, but instead focused on what she could rationalize as part of her job, leaning away from just plain meddling. “I’m his nurse. Show me where the dog food is.”

  Audra’s eyebrows lifted – the gold swirls moving like waves on the delicate china. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m throwing it out. He’ll eat as a person, or he’ll starve. Self-pity has a time and place. I’d say nine years of it is enough. Wouldn’t you?”

  Audra smiled deviously. “Oh, he won’t like that.”

  “Yeah? Well, he’ll just have to get over it. Dog food doesn’t have enough nutritional value to sustain a person. No wonder he’s so irritable.”

  “Rare steak, then,” Audra suggested, hopping on her tray with giddiness that someone was finally going to help the boy she’d raised. “Barely cook it at all. He used to love my potatoes. I can teach you how to make them. Chef Bouche tries to make everything fancy, but I know my boy. He likes them mashed, with a mushroom sauce of my own invention,” she informed Belle with a gleam of pride as she drove her teacart down the hall next to the woman.

  Belle pulled out her old cell phone and ordered enough food for two for the week, and then turned to the magical objects. They flocked to her, watching her with anticipation of being noticed. She smiled down at them all with an indulgent love in her heart for the long-forgotten people who’d had lives and loves of their own, once upon a better time. “I think I should probably start cleaning this place. Would you all like to help me?”

  The objects looked around at each other hesitantly, with covert guilty glances that they’d let the castle fall into disrepair. The candelabra hopped up to her, and Belle scooped him up, so he could look at her on eye level. “Mademoiselle, the master doesn’t like change. If you clean things around here, believe me, he’ll have something to say about it.”

  The corner of Belle’s mouth lifted. “Would that thing be, ‘Belle, the house looks amazing. I’m so inspired that I think I’ll buy Lucien some new tapers just for the heck of it.’” Belle and Lucien shared a chuckle.

  Bosworth chimed in from the floor, his brass arms on his shapely laquered hips. “Now, now. The master won’t like us messing with the state of the home. We tried that years ago, remember? We moved the stand in the foyer a foot to the left, and he was spitting mad for days.”

  Belle studied the enchanted trinkets with a new bloom of compassion. It wasn’t exactly easy for a teapot to operate a broom. “Look, I’m not entertaining any sort of delusion that everything will be up to snuff within the thirty days Adam’s given me. Still, I have to try. It’s unsanitary for anyone to live in such conditions. His coughing is no doubt from the dust. I’m his nurse.”

  Lucien leaned forward and squeezed her face with the two pedestals that held the unlit melted white tapers. He brushed his brass nose across hers affectionately. “Then whatever you need, we are here to assist you.” His voice turned sharp after Belle kissed his cheek and set him back on the floor. “Alright, everyone! You heard the lady of the house. Bosworth, find the mop and bucket. Audra, let’s start in the kitchen. That’s one of the rooms that still gets used on occasion. I’ll not have the lady of the house dining in filth.” He turned over his shoulder and gave Belle a wink and a conspiratorial nod of his head.

  Belle felt energized with the zing of fresh optimism as she located the pile of unused dust rags. Though Adam was stuck in his mess, Belle realized that she didn’t have to carry on as if she was also stuck.

  7

  Someone Worth Getting up in the Morning For

  The foyer, Belle’s bedroom and bathroom, the kitchen, the dining room and the hallway that connected the two took all day to clean, but when they were finished, the staff lounged with Belle on the settee in one of the nearby living rooms, uttering several gusts of well-deserved satisfaction. The castle was enormous, but finally there was marked progress. They were all filthy, but happy.

  “I need to go get washed up. Then I’m going to start dinner. Do you guys… Do you eat?”

  Lucien shook his head. “No, but we can appreciate smells. If you cook? Oh, the fragrances that will fill the castle! Tell me you cook with plenty of garlic. I haven’t smelled that in far too long.”

  Belle’s hand fell on the footstool, who was lapping at her shoe with his tassel and yipping happily. She scratched his fabric and then sat back to bring Lucien onto her lap. The staff were starved for touch, so every time she sat down, they inched closer with hopeful faces, wishing to be stroked or picked up.

  Bosworth was the only exception. He kept a respectable distance, his posture unbending and his tone always a little haughty. “Garlic is a smell that fills the house like a loud noise. Thyme. That’s what I long to smell. It’s a slight bit more sophisticated than being whacked over the head with an odor.”

  Lucien rolled his eyes. “Don’t pay attention to him. He loves garlic, too. He just wants to impress you with the extensively snobbish palate he used to have, back when we were human.”

  Belle sniggered at their dynamic, and then excused herself. Lucien and Audra followed her down the hall, with the pup nipping at Belle every so often. Before she shut them out of her bedroom so she could change, she asked for a pen and paper to write a note that she read quietly to Lucien and Audra, taking care not to wake the sleeping Simone. “Dear Adam, Dinner is at 6:30 sharp. I’ll see you in the dining room then.” She placed the note on the teacart and smiled at Audra. “Can you deliver that to him? I don’t know where his bedroom is, and he doesn’t want me sniffing around in the West Wing.”

  Audra excha
nged a hesitant look with Lucien. “Are you sure, dear? He doesn’t like to eat in front of people. The master doesn’t take kindly to being ordered to do something he’s said he doesn’t want to do.”

  Belle held up her dirt and soot-stained fingers as proof. “Him calling the shots resulted in this. I’m the nurse, so I get to decide what’s best for him. I don’t think I’m pushing the boundaries too much by telling him when dinner will be ready.”

  Audra still looked uncertain, but gave Belle a nod and zipped off to deliver the note. Lucien stayed behind, tucking in the edge of Belle’s freshly-washed sheet. He clapped his hands, and the wardrobe came to life with an operatic burst of welcome. “You’ve come back to me! Come, come. Let me look at you.” Her drawers arced in a slight grimace at Belle’s disheveled demeanor.

  Lucien took charge, reclaiming his role as butler with pride. “The lady of the house needs something nice to wear to dinner. This is no attire for a fine woman to be wearing around the house. Can you whip up something more delicate?”

  “Of course!” Simone replied. Everything she said sounded to Belle like the aria of a throaty soloist who had no need for a microphone. “I was working on a few outfits this afternoon. I’ll have something for you right away. Go, go. Wash up.”

  Lucien tottered into the adjoined bathroom and got out a fresh towel, shampoo, and fancier soaps than Belle had ever used before. “I think this will do nicely, but let me know if there’s anything else you need. Anything at all.”

  Belle glanced around the bathroom with new appreciation for all the gleaming fixtures. Everything had been so dingy mere hours ago, but now the sconces and moldings sparkled with new life. The white jacuzzi tub was huge and beckoned to her aching limbs, but Belle opted for the shower, so as not to get the tub filthy all over again. She envisioned herself reading in the bathtub, the way she’d seen people do on TV. She had just the book in mind. It was tucked away in her belongings, and though she’d read it dozens of times already, the luxury of the bathtub seemed like it might make the old story come alive with new light.

  Lucien turned his back so Belle could disrobe and step under the heated spray, but he didn’t leave her. Instead he gathered up her dirty clothes and sent them down to be washed. “Lucien, do you think Adam would submit to a physical exam? I know now that his diagnosis of major depressive disorder with psychosis is wrong, but I worry his doctor learned that Adam hears voices and stopped the medical exam there. His patient file didn’t really give me a broad enough scope. Plus, it’s years old.”

  “The master doesn’t like doctors, for obvious reasons. When you’re written off as crazy, there’s not much motivation to convince people otherwise. Though he did try for a time; I’ll give him that. But if you asked? I admit, I do not know if you can convince him. Just yesterday I wouldn’t have thought that anyone could come in here and transform so much in such a short time.”

  Belle took her time lathering up, enjoying the hot water on her sore back. “It was only some cleaning products and elbow grease.”

  “To you, maybe. But to us? To us, it’s hope. We haven’t had a reason to be at our best in years. Now we have purpose. We have someone to please whose smile lights up the room.”

  Belle dimpled as she rinsed off. “That’s a high compliment, coming from someone who literally lights up every room he wanders into.”

  “Just be patient with the master. He’s not used to someone like you.”

  “Someone like me? A nurse?”

  Lucien shook his head with a note of melancholy to his smile. “Someone worth getting up in the morning for.”

  Belle turned off the water and took the towel he offered her, cinching it around her curves before stepping out. “Oh, you charmer.”

  Lucien moved to the doorway, looking back at Belle with a contented sigh that was laced with a little worry. She was a breath of fresh air, but Adam was the type to bolt the windows against anything that might be good for him. “I think I’ll go help speed the master along. See you at 6:30, milady.”

  Belle was nervous when she tiptoed down the steps half an hour later. She hadn’t worn a dress since she’d been a child. The wardrobe had been so proud of her creation, and to be fair, the dress was lovely. It was a bright mossy green and had a long, belled skirt. The bodice hugged Belle’s slender frame as if it was made for her, which Belle learned that it had been. The slight dip showed off a hint of her cleavage, which Belle had never exposed to the public. Now that the wardrobe had her measurements, she promised Belle that she could make a whole assortment of couture for the new girl to try on. Belle’s footwear consisted of only sneakers and a pair of nude ballet flats, so she opted for the flats to move through the castle, hoping she didn’t look quite as strange as she felt in the fancy outfit.

  The dress moved easily with Belle’s quick walk. The draft that licked at her bare, freshly lotioned legs felt like a glorious scandal she reveled in that she’d never experienced in her usual jeans. Her long brown hair had been pulled back with a light green silk ribbon, making her feel feminine and delicate after a day spent scrubbing on her hands and knees.

  She wandered into the kitchen and scolded Chef Bouche with a lighthearted tease for starting without her.

  “But it’s been so long since I’ve been able to cook anything! You can’t put steaks in the fridge and expect me not to put them to use.” His backsplash splintered off on both sides, forming arms he used to gesture with, stir pots and tend to his meals. “Tell me of the most magnificent steak you’ve ever had, and I’ll top it.”

  Belle giggled as she started boiling potatoes, following the instructions from Audra, who was perched on the counter. “The best one I had could easily be topped, I’m sure. I don’t really remember what Papa did to season it, but I remember the day. I’d just come home from a long day of cleaning homes, which is what I did when I finished high school. I’d been down that week, because I’d gotten into the nursing school I applied to, but the tuition was too expensive. Papa made us steak that night, which was a real treat. I remember thinking how utterly wasted the luxury was on me, depressed as I was. When I sat down to eat with him, on my chair was a letter from the Johnstone Foundation. They’d granted me a full scholarship.” Belle plopped a few potato pieces into the boiling water. “Best steaks of my life, that day. Of course, it probably could’ve been hot dogs, and I would’ve said the same. That’s the thing about a beautiful blessing. It paints the whole day with glitter.”

  When Belle looked up, she saw much of the staff in the doorway, wearing wistful expressions and hanging on her every word. They’d been starved for happy stories of glitter. Too much of their world had been dust and doom.

  “You’re lovely, Mademoiselle,” Lucien said with a look of rapture about him.

  “I think you look good enough for a dance,” commented the wheeled coatrack. Thomas Chapeau’s wooden arms animated for Belle as he rolled into the kitchen and bowed.

  Belle laughed at the sweetness they lavished on her. “Why thank you, kind sir.” She fanned out her skirt and curtsied, pretending like she was a fine lady worth the fuss. When she righted, Thomas swept her away from the stove in a waltz that enchanted them both with its melodious levity. She didn’t care that she struggled to keep the rhythm; she was dancing, and found that she was adept enough to keep up with the likes of a coatrack. Audra sang an upbeat dirge while the staff banged and clapped as best they could to give the two some makeshift music to hold onto.

  Belle’s smile was contagious, giving them all something beautiful. They illuminated the room with sheer delight, which gave birth to stories of their own memories of their best steaks ever.

  Lucien danced around Bosworth, who stood stock-still with a disapproving frown painted on the face of the antique clock. “Mine was in the artisanal town just north of Hinlay, but it wasn’t the steak and it wasn’t Hinlay that brought me to my knees. It was Vivienne. Ah, she’s always been a sight. And what of yours, Bosworth?”

  Vivienne s
wept Lucien’s face with her feathers, giggling at the compliment.

  Bosworth scoffed and turned up his nose, which had the clock’s hands sprouted from the center. “A steak is a steak. A woman is a woman. A city is a city.”

  Lucien shimmied, shaking his imaginary breasts in Bosworth’s face. “I don’t think you understand the world if you can say Hinlay is just a city.” He motioned above to where duster was floating above them, twirling in time with Belle’s skirt as the woman continued dancing with Thomas. “And if you think Vivienne is just a woman, then you’re blind, my friend. She is perfection.”

  Vivienne pretended she hadn’t heard the second compliment, but the proud smirk that lifted the righthand corner of her mouth gave her away. She shook her feathers with a more deliberate sensuality, beckoning him to look, and to never stop staring.

  Thomas twirled Belle with ease that awoke parts of him that he’d long written off as being of lesser importance. There was no one to twirl, so he’d stopped trying to make the world into a dance. He didn’t mind her clumsy footwork; he was dancing. Belle’s throaty laughter filled the kitchen while the potatoes boiled, sending lighthearted melodies into the castle that had forfeited its will to play long ago.

  So lost in the moment was she that when Thomas spun her out, she gasped when she smacked into Adam’s chest. He’d been watching in the doorway for who knows how long, but was startled at the laughter that painted Belle’s lips. His arms fell around her hips to steady her sway, and for the briefest of moments, his body was tempted to fall into the easy rhythm of the waltz. It had been so long since a woman had looked at him and smiled. The levity didn’t die on her lips, even this close up. All of his scars and hairy spots that should be smooth were on display, but still, her eyes crinkled in amusement. “You came down for dinner! Thank you.” She moved a stray lock of hair back, beaming up at him. “You’re early, too. I was worried I’d have to fight you about coming down for every meal.”