The next day, Belle managed to stick with the subjects that Cogsworth wanted to discuss from breakfast until lunch without being distracted by any of the books in the library where they were working. Lunch itself was taken in the dining room, but unlike the day before, when Belle had dined alone for the midday meal (Clopin and Maurice had both been too busy in the workshop to be drawn away), this time, Clopin joined her.

After lunch, the couple went together to the library, chose a book, and settled down to read it together until Angelique arrived with a pile of books of her own.

They were catalogues, every page full of furniture and fixtures. All except for one book – a date book.

"As well as deciding how you want the castle decorated, I want to know which holidays I can expect you to be at the castle for," Angelique informed her mistress.

"If I may?" Clopin asked with a gesture towards the date book.

"What?" Angelique asked primly, even as she held out the book – though she kept it firmly in hand and did not release it to him at once.

"I know the date of every festival of Paris," Clopin stated.

"I'd hate to miss the Feast of Fools," Belle agreed with a nod, then smiled. "But could you imagine a party at the palace that continued from Christmas Eve until New Year's Day?" she suggested with wonder.

"You would get very tired of dancing by that time," Angelique said primly, even as she finally relinquished the little date book to Clopin.

Clopin chuckled and shook his head as he accepted the book. "This year is the first in my life where the Paris Carnival has not followed the Feast of Fools," he commented as he opened the little book.

"Well, that's what happens when the minister of justice decides to try and burn the entire city to the ground hunting for one gypsy," Belle replied archly.

Clopin chuckled. "She really did insist on annoying Frollo," he commented easily. "And to his face, rather than behind his back so that he cannot punish her."

"Who?" Angelique enquired curiously.

"Esmeralda," Belle and Clopin answered together.

"I cannot think where I went wrong in raising that girl," Clopin bemoaned theatrically, sighing and holding his hand to his chest as though wounded.

"Don't be too harsh on yourself," Belle advised him as she stifled giggles. "You're only a few years older than her."

"This is true," he allowed with a nod, and turned back to the date book. "And there is plenty of time yet for the Carnival to get going. It does normally continue until Lent after all."

Belle laughed softly. "Perhaps it will be in full swing by the time we return to Paris," she suggested. "Perhaps Esmeralda's marriage to the captain will set it off!"

Clopin chuckled. "Perhaps," he agreed, and flipped through the pages of the date book to add a couple more festivals – one in March, one in April, and one in June – before he handed it back to Angelique.

"Hmph, well, none of these festivals coincide with any of the holidays that we here at the castle would particularly want to host," she allowed. "If you celebrated Easter, Toussaint, and Noël here, perhaps?" she suggested.

Belle hummed in thought. "That should be alright," she said cautiously. "Hmm, but Quasimodo would be busy at Notre Dame on Noël, and I do enjoy the midnight mass on Christmas Eve, so perhaps... if I alternated Noël and Jour de l'an?" she suggested.

"Oui," Angelique agreed with a decisive nod. "That would suit us here at the castle very well, as of course it must, for you are the Mistress."

Belle smiled with exasperated affection and huffed a silent sigh at Angelique, then shifted in her seat to take the first furnishings catalogue and settle it in her lap for perusal.

"Your company is now superfluous and distracting," Angelique informed Clopin. "Go, go! You can have nothing to say on the matters of how to properly furnish a castle," she said to him, and made shooing motions at him.

Clopin raised an eyebrow at the woman, but obediently rose from his seat beside Belle. Less obediently, he captured her hand in his as he stood.

Belle was instantly distracted from the volume in her lap, and looked up at him.

Clopin silently held Belle's gaze as he softly pressed his closed mouth to the backs of her fingers, breathed in the scent of her skin as closely pressed to his nose as it was, and then, after a gentle squeeze, he released her hand and excused himself to join Maurice in his workshop.

"If you decide that you want the castle decked out in all the colours of that tunic he arrived in, I will not be pleased," Angelique informed her mistress once the library door had closed behind the man.

"Only Clopin can pull off that particular shade of purple-pink," Belle answered seriously, and quickly turned back to the catalogue in her lap.

~oOo~

Cogsworth continued to claim Belle's mornings, and Angelique persisted in joining Belle in the library in the afternoons with her catalogues, but she was able to spend time with Clopin at lunch and from then until Angelique arrived and shooed him out. The two of them also continued to cosy up together on the rug in front of the fire while Maurice relaxed on a chair not far away, and Belle and Clopin would read a book together.

Clopin's little puppet of himself even joined in, with his high squeaking voice, making commentary on the story or on the voices that the pair of them made for the characters in the story, which set Belle to laughing, and Maurice as well when he noticed the puppet.

It wasn't quite the same effect as when Clopin himself was dressed up in his bright colours so that he and the puppet looked more alike, but it was still very amusing.

As the week passed, things around the castle slowly changed. A chair here or there was changed, a vase vanished, a statue switched, a relic replaced, a mirror moved, and all the portraits were put away.

The floor of the ballroom was polished, windows washed, curtains aired. Instruments were tuned, a special menu was prepared, and a special dress was made ready for Belle when she returned to her room (after an afternoon discussing the aesthetic arrangement of the gardens with Angelique, Cogsworth, and Chief Gardener Rosalind). Thankfully, it was not the same dress she had danced in with the Beast that night. It was still beautiful, and still clearly more than the other nice dresses she'd been wearing around the castle up until that point, but... not that dress. Which to her thinking was really a good thing. Clopin wasn't a prince, cursed or otherwise, and he wouldn't expect her to be a princess for him.

No, this dress was simple in its extravagance. It had a wine-coloured under-dress that was visible through the gape at the front of the golden over-skirt, and which flowed slightly over the top of the golden bodice to wrap around her shoulders in the same style as that dress had. Her hair was done up the same way though, and the gloves were the same, and the shoes were the same, but the dress was different.

And Clopin, in his dark purple jacket and wine-coloured waist-coat, was different.

The Beast, Belle recalled, had needed Lumiere to push him down the stairs – as much as he could at the time – while Belle waited for him where the diverging staircase met. Clopin, with his eyes fixed on her, had only just beaten her to that point. He hadn't bowed and given her room to curtsey. He'd taken both of her hands in his – and both of them were wearing gloves, she noted with detached amusement – and he kissed them lightly. A definite kiss, rather than simply pressing his lips to the backs of her fingers as he had done before. There was a difference. Even through the gloves, she could feel it.

Then Clopin had wrapped her arm around his and walked with her down the last few steps and escorted her to the dining room.

"Is this why your father is having his evening meal privately tonight?" Clopin whispered to Belle as he pushed her chair in behind her at the table.

"Could be," she answered softly, a smile on her face as she watched him move slightly around the table and take his own seat.

Another difference. Clopin sat near to her, just to her right, rather than at the other end of the table, and they talked as they ate. Animatedly. Even with the servants all doing their best to make it a romantic evening, Clopin still asked how her afternoon had gone (having asked about her morning when they'd shared lunch), and shared that her father's current project was nearly complete already – something sped along by his being able to request help from appropriately skilled members of the castle.

He still refused to tell her what her father was building this time, and Maurice wasn't saying anything either. The servants wouldn't be drawn on the subject and Belle hadn't had the time or opportunity to venture out to the workshop herself to investigate. She would find out though. She would.

When the dessert had been cleared away (fondant au chocolat, which Clopin had delighted in feeding to her, which in turn prompted her try doing the same for him, and she found a new appreciation for the act of feeding another person), Belle guided Clopin to the ballroom, where a string quartet awaited them in a room lit only by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a few candlesticks interspersed along the walls.

"So many times out there," Clopin sang to her softly as they danced, "I'd watch a happy pair of lovers walking in the night. They'd have a kind of glow around them, I'd swear it looked like heaven's light. I thought I'd never know that warm and loving glow, and locked my heart away up tight. How could a gypsy, poor and ageing, ever hope for heaven's light? Then suddenly an angel smiled at me, and she kissed my cheek without a hint of spite. I dare to dream that she might hold regard for me, and as I hold her close tonight..."

Belle smiled up at him a moment before she stepped a little closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder as Clopin continued to guide their dancing.

"The single life is not so right," Clopin sang softly, his lilting voice catching high notes easily. "I want to live in heaven's light."

Belle blinked in shock and looked up at him. "Clopin?" she asked, hope shining in her eyes.

He smiled back and stopped dancing. "The single life is not so right," he repeated, and raised a hand to caress her cheek. "Would you grant me heaven's light?" he asked softly, sweetly, as he slowly – slowly – bent his head down...

Belle closed the rest of the distance between them quickly, hands on Clopin's shoulders as her lips met his. And he was warm, and he surrounded her with that warmth, and she loved him, and he loved her as well, and -!

"Will you marry me, Belle?" Clopin asked, his words a breathy whisper against her lips when they parted.

"I will," she answered happily as she rested her head on his shoulder.

She felt his arms wrap around her waist and draw her even closer to him, felt his cheek rest on her head and his lips press to her temple.

"I love you," he told her softly.

Belle looked up at Clopin and raised a hand to cup his jaw. Gently she drew him down to kiss her again. "I love you too," she answered, just as softly, before she pressed her lips to his once more.

~oOo~

Maurice was delighted at breakfast the next morning to hear that Clopin had proposed, and that Belle had accepted him. He still claimed Clopin's help in his workshop after breakfast, and Belle was finally finished going over matters of the estate with Cogsworth by lunch. The happy couple danced together through the castle until they reached the library where Angelique was waiting. With catalogues for planning a wedding and rope to tie them to their chairs so that they could pay attention to the important details without getting caught up in each other.

Good news spread quickly, it seemed.

After a dinner with Maurice, the couple settled down on a rug in front of a fireplace, as they had done before, with Maurice watching them and drinking tea as the pair sat perhaps a little closer than they had before as they read together.

An echoing knock on the front door distracted them from their cosy occupations.

"What on earth?" Belle asked curiously.

"At this hour and in this season," Clopin said as he stood, and offered his hand to help her to her feet. "It is likely someone wishing for a night's shelter from the cold."

"It is late," Maurice agreed, and stood as well. "You go see who is at the door. I'm going to turn in for the night."

"Goodnight Papa," Belle said, and hugged him gently.

"Bonne nuit," Clopin added with a nod of his head, then offered his arm to Belle and escorted her through the castle to the front door.

"Mrs Potts, will you put the kettle on and see about heating up some soup?" Belle asked the plump woman as they passed her in the hall. "Whoever is at the door must be cold through to their bones right now. And could you ask some of the girls to set up a guest room with a fire?" she added.

"Certainly Mistress," Mrs Potts agreed, and bustled off.

Clopin pulled open the heavy door when they reached it.

"Please, will the master or mistress grant an old woman shelter from the cold?" begged a hunched old woman wrapped in a green, tattered cloak. "I will give this rose in return for shelter," she added, and held out a tightly wound yellow rose, just in the early stages of blooming.

"I'm the mistress," Belle answered, "come in, please," she urged, and wrapped an arm around the old woman to help bring her inside.

Clopin closed the door behind them as soon as they were in, cutting off the cold wind.

"Thank you," the old woman said, and held out the rose again. "A rose for the mistress, in return for my night's shelter."

Bell lay her hands over the old woman's gently. "It is all you have," she said. "You must keep it. A rose at this time of year is truly a treasure. A vase and water will be fetched for it, but I could not take it from you. Please, come. I've ordered a room made up for you already, as well as tea and hot soup to help warm you."

"Thank you," the old woman said. "You're very kind."

Clopin smiled at the way Belle blushed at the compliment. "She says nothing that is not true," he informed her fondly and kissed her cheek.

"Mistress," Mrs Potts called. "The room and supper for our guest is prepared."
"Thank you Mrs Potts," Belle answered, and bid the old woman good night at the door of the prepared room.

Clopin escorted Belle to her own chambers after that, and kissed her hand in goodnight.

~oOo~

"Do you wish only to stay for the one night?" Clopin asked the old woman when she joined them for breakfast the next morning, escorted down by Chip. "It is not an easy thing, to travel in winter on foot."

Belle nodded in agreement. "Oui," she said. "If you wish, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. I could even hire you to work in the garden come spring, if you wished. If you have been able to keep that rose until now, you must have a gift. I could not turn you out..."

Maurice chuckled. "Even if you leave for Paris tomorrow morning," he quipped to his daughter.

The old woman joined in with Maurice's chuckles. "Oh, you are a pair of good hearts," she said to Belle and Clopin with a smile, and with that smile the years melted away from her. Her back un-bent, her wrinkles smoothed out, and her limp grey hair became full and golden. "Accept this rose," she offered again, and the yellow rose she had offered the night before appeared, hovering, above the palm of her hand. "And a blessing of prosperity and happiness, wherever you may go."

"Thank you," Belle said softly as she reached out across the table and wrapped her fingers carefully about the stem.

"Oui, merci," Clopin added, stunned.

With a last smile, the woman vanished from where she had been sitting.

"Do you suppose she was a spirit?" Clopin asked cautiously.

"I suppose that she's the same one who placed the castle under an enchantment some years ago," Lumiere interjected as he rolled up the breakfast things. He'd gotten the trolley half-way from the kitchen when the old woman had undergone her spectacular transformation. "Breakfast is served."

"Thank you Lumiere," Belle answered, a little distracted still by the glowing rose she held. "Um... a vase perhaps?" she requested tentatively.

Lumiere chuckled. "Of course Mistress," he agreed.

"So..." Maurice said, determined to draw conversation back to lighter things. "You two, leaving tomorrow for Paris again."

"Do I get to find out what you've been working on before I leave?" Belle asked with a teasing smile.

Maurice chuckled. "Your wedding gift," he answered his daughter happily.

Belle's eyes widened in surprise. "My -?!"

Maurice nodded.

"I had to get your father's approval before I could approach you, chérie," Clopin explained softly. "It was an effort made in positive thinking. You will like it, I promise."

Belle raised an eyebrow at Clopin, before she rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. "Alright," she allowed. "But can I see it today?" she asked.

Maurice chuckled. "You'd probably better," he said through his gentle laughter. "You're taking it back to Paris tomorrow."

~oOo~

The cart wasn't painted yet, just varnished against the weather on the outside. Still, it was a sight to behold when Maurice and Clopin pulled it out of the workshop to show her in the bright daylight of the snow-covered garden.

It was longer than Clopin's old cart, and the fold-out steps up to the door doubled as a seat for while it was hitched to a horse and there was driving to be done. A large set of shutters on one side would no doubt serve for Clopin to perform his puppet show through, and there was a chimney sticking out the top on the other side of the cart. There was a raised strip down the centre of the roof with narrow glazing, to let in light, and a small, glazed, bay window at the rear of the cart too, Belle noticed as she walked around it in wonder.

Clopin lowered the short ladder. "Would you like to see inside?" he enquired.

Belle was half-way up the steps and reaching for the door without any further prompting.

There was a small stove and compact kitchen area, a bookshelf beside the puppet theatre, cupboards, a fold-out table, a curtained off chamber pot, and...

"One bed?" Belle asked with a smile.

"I don't want you two taking advantage of that detail until you're married," Maurice warned.

"Of course!" Clopin promised, hand over his heart and a shocked expression on his face. "I would never -! Quasimodo would use me as a clapper for one of his bells if I -!"

Belle smiled and kissed his cheek. "I know," she told him softly. "And Papa does too."

"Yes," Maurice agreed with a slightly melancholy chuckle. "I do know."

Clopin relaxed, smiled, and proceeded to show Belle all the extra little hidden places that had been built into the wagon. Like the outside of the cart, however, the inside was fairly bare. The wood had been stained to the colour of rich, dark honey, and there were a few simple details carved around, but... the whole thing was just waiting for someone to move their belongings into it and make it a home.

Clopin came up behind Belle as she stood in the middle of the cart, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You want adventures in the great wide somewhere," he hummed in her ear.

"I want it more than I can tell," she agreed softly, a dreamy smile on her face, "but I have someone who's grand, and that someone understands..."

"You want so much more than can be planned," Clopin finished, and kissed the skin just behind her ear. "Best start moving belongings into the cart," he said softly, and guided her out and down the steps into the snow once more.

Most of the things they would need to be able to live in the new cart, Clopin had in his already, and they just needed to be moved from one to the other. There were a couple of things that could bear to be replaced because of wear, and other things (such as eating irons and flatware) got replaced because Clopin only had enough to service himself. The castle staff insisted upon new sheets, pillows, even a new mattress for the bed – and Clopin insisted that he would keep his old quilt regardless, which he had made and kept in repair himself with scraps of cloth that had come from other things as they wore through.

Clopin's puppets were moved in, as well as all his tools for making more puppets, his colourful tunic that he entertained in it turned out he had two of, and both were hung in the new cart. He had two hats, which were hung by the door, along with his mask. His more ordinary tunics and hose were moved as well, as was a single outfit of finery from the castle.

Belle filled the bookshelf with books before she even thought about dresses. Most of the ones she wore normally were back in the house in Paris after all. As most of Clopin's clothes folded away, Belle would have most of the cupboard to hang her few simple dresses in. For now though, she did hang Clopin's favourite of her castle gowns in the cupboard, to be joined by her two other, plainer dresses when they returned to Paris. Her third she would wear when they left the castle, as it was the dress she had arrived in.

Clopin also removed the gold Phoebus had given him from where he had hidden it and moved it to a similar hiding place in the new wagon. The bottle, he brought out to show Lumiere – after all, what did he really know about wine? The man was impressed by both the vineyard and the vintage, and advised Clopin to keep it for the wedding night.

The cart's small pantry was stocked full and a bale of hay was supplied for Renée, who'd had her coat brushed and her mane and tail braided before she was hitched to the cart the next morning.

~oOo~

Rather than dallying on the return trip to Paris, Belle and Clopin set out early the next morning with all haste. They wanted to see if they could reach Paris by the following noon – which would mean they would have to continue to travel through at least some of the night, and not stopping just so that they could eat. They'd eat on the move. They definitely wouldn't be stopping for the night in the village.

They had to test the bed after all.

So it was a long day of travelling in the cold, but that was alright. They snuggled up together with a blanket around their shoulders and another one across their laps, and talked about which stories they'd read while at the castle Clopin could turn into puppet shows for the children.

When they stopped for the night, they were well past the village and the snow was all glowing in the moonlight. Clopin unhitched Renée and gave her a quick brush once he'd tied her up beside the bale of hay that had been supplied for her. Belle made them something hot to eat on the small stove inside the cart – which in turn warmed the whole cart and made it smell delicious.

Then Clopin took off his shoes, his gloves, his cowl, and hung up the hat he had worn all day, and Belle pulled off her over-dress and unlaced her corset so that she was only in her under-gown, toed off her shoes, and the two of them climbed up onto the bed together. Arms went around waists and feet tangled together and Clopin pulled the warm quilt over them both.

A chaste goodnight kiss was exchanged, and they snuggled in to sleep and dream.

Clopin woke up in the bed alone the next morning.
"Belle?" he called sleepily. Then he noticed that the cart was already moving, and that bread, an apple, and a knife were set on a plate waiting for him. With a smile, he rolled out of bed and picked up the plate before he stumbled, bare-foot and with bed-head, out to where Belle was sat outside the door, the reigns in her hands.

"Good morning Love," Belle greeted with a smile.

Clopin chuckled and kissed her cheek as he sat down. "How early did you wake up?" he asked.

"It was light out," Belle answered with cheeky innocence.

Clopin chuckled and shook his head at her fondly. "Good morning," he said, and tenderly kissed her cheek. "How long until we see the gates of Paris do you think?"

"We'll see Notre Dame over the walls before we see the gates," Belle answered. "And not for an hour or two."

"Time enough to decide how to tell your story to the children," Clopin teased as he began to slice into his apple. "It is truly a dramatic tale after all."

Belle was silent a moment, her mind cast back to her first stay in the castle. "Tale as old as time, true as it can be, barely even friends, then somebody bends – unexpectedly," she hummed softly, the song Mrs Potts had sung for them that last night before she'd been allowed to go to her father, just before she'd been given her freedom again. "Just a little change. Small to say the least. Both a little scared, neither one prepared... Beauty and the Beast..."

"Belle, until you said 'beast' there, I thought it was our tale," Clopin said with a smirk. "And there are some who would argue that I am a beast," he added jokingly.

"Mrs Potts sang this song... that night," Belle explained softly.

Clopin set his apple back down on his plate and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He didn't need to ask what night. He knew already when exactly she was talking about. "Is there more?" he asked gently.

Belle nodded. "Ever just the same," she continued softly. "Ever a surprise. Ever as before, ever just as sure as the sun will rise. Tale as old as time, tune as old as song. Bitter sweet and strange, finding you can change, learning you were wrong. Certain as the sun rising in the east. Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme... Beauty and the Beast."

"Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme," Clopin echoed softly, still holding her close against his side. "All bathed in heaven's light," he finished, switching easily to the song he had sung to her while they had danced together in the ballroom. "You have me now."

Belle smiled up at him. "Oui," she agreed as she snuggled a little closer. "I have you now."

~The End~