Author's note: I really wanted to get this out there today, so rushed a bit! So sorry for any typos or roughness! Happy reading and thank you for sticking around so long to read! Thank you also for all the advice, I am a bit nervous knowing some native French people are reading as well, I apologize for any historical inaccuracies!

Chapter 35

Despite all that had happened and the pain she had endured, it would foolish and wrong to assume this meant Belle had done nothing with her time since returning to Villeneuve. The villagers may have a painted a picture of a disgraced servant girl, used and thrown out of the castle, but the reality was quite different. Although her father had been worried, Belle had in fact spent most of her time using the conflicted feelings she felt bubbling inside herself to write, to build up her own portfolio of poetry and autobiographical scribbles, which eventually had turned into a short story of some kind, involving fantasy, magic, and even a bewitched teaspoon here and there.

Belle was determined not to let her experiences at the castle turn into negatives rather than positives. She'd managed to do a great deal of reading while managing the library and its various collections, and all this was coming into good use as she secretly still taught the young girls in the village square during sleepy afternoons after the market had closed up, when everyone was either working or taking a nap. One girl in particular reminded Belle starkly of Marie, and she always felt saddened at the thought of having abandoned her friend and their reading lessons so abruptly.

To all the world, it seemed like Belle had isolated herself, not speaking to anyone aside from the children, who naturally did not tell a single soul about their lessons, for fear their parents would scold them for associating with someone so tarnished. In effect, Belle had become almost invisible.

But of course, when you become invisible, your perception of the world changes too, and it wasn't long before Belle began to notice a certain beggar woman who frequently seemed to appear in the village, although no one took much notice of her, aside from the chaplain. It was the same beggar who had appeared at the Prince's ball, the very first night Belle had ever laid eyes on him….

When the square was quiet and Belle found herself alone, often this elderly woman would come and speak to her. At first, our young heroine was wary; there had always been something rather odd about the woman, as if there was much more to her than first appeared to the naked eye. Their initial conversations were trivial. Belle nevertheless felt some comfort in being able to converse with a total stranger who had no preconceived ideas about her. Eventually, Belle began to trust her, and in any case, the old woman was almost frighteningly perceptive, and there was barely a thing Belle could keep a secret from her. But she took comfort in knowing that, because of who the beggar lady was, she was practically the best person to confide in because people avoided her like the plague and wouldn't dare hold any conversation which lasted any longer than a few syllables, in most cases something along the lines of "get out my way, you filthy hag!"

Today was again such a day where Belle found herself preoccupied, even as she felt some comfort teaching the children. As they packed up to leave, Belle turned to see the chaplain leading the beggar woman out onto the street, passing her some bread and wishing her good day. As Belle approached her, the old woman spoke without turning to look at her.

"He is such a kind man," she said in her throaty but warm voice. "It is rare to find good people like that."

Belle said nothing and simply smiled.

"And speaking of good people," continued the old woman as she turned to look at her, wrapping her purple scarf around her thin neck, "I have not seen you these past few days."

"No," said Belle quickly as her eyes dropped to the ground. "I was a bit busy, preoccupied- "

"He sent you another letter, I gather?" quipped the beggar woman, her eyes sparkling almost mischievously as Belle looked up, noting how odd it was to see a woman of such misfortune still manage to see the world in such a light-hearted way.

Perhaps that was why Belle liked her company. She could tell this woman was a survivor, and not one to wallow in misery, like most are prone to doing.

"And you gave no reply?" she continued, waiting for Belle to answer, which she reluctantly did.

"Well," sighed the old woman, lifting her wooden makeshift crane and walking towards the square fountain, Belle trailing after her. "I suppose if I were in your position I would do the same, regardless if he be a prince or a pauper. It is disappointing to hear, especially since the months after I saw you by the castle gardens I had heard such good things about him."

"Yes, well, that matter and this are quite different," said Belle curtly as she sat down opposite the old lady and folded her skirts neatly, trying to ignore the fact the beggar woman was correct. "I understand why I had to leave, it was to be expected. It is just that I simply cannot abide the fact he dealt with my father's debts without saying a word to me and then continually tried to send money to me, as if I were some- some common- "

It should be said at this moment, that Belle had not been entirely open with her confidante. She had neglected to mention the Prince's advances and her reciprocation, even if it had only been in silence and in brief moments when neither had been thinking of anything other than each other.

But as stated previously, the old beggar woman had experience and was not easily fooled. She had figured for herself already that something had clearly transpired between the Prince and the beautiful young lady sitting beside her.

"My dear," said the old woman, interrupting Belle's spluttering, "I am aware of your story, you tell it so eloquently, but are you sure the only reason the Prince sent you away was because he could no longer afford to keep you? It seems to me like you got to know him very well... The fact he paid your father's debts seems rather out of character doesn't you think? I can't imagine he does this for every servant let go- "

"I did not know him at all," said Belle, surprisingly blunt that it caused the old lady to lift her dark eyebrows. Silence fell on their conversation, and for the first time, Belle did not want to speak, did not want to be there where her expressions were open for all to see. For the past few days, she couldn't help but be reminded of Gaston and the Marquis' words. It seemed like they knew a side to the Prince that she did not, perhaps the very side of him which made him turn her away…

"You ought to know Belle, whatever what people may say, the best way to make up our minds is to trust our own intuition. I have heard bitterness, anger, pain in your voice whenever the Prince has entered our conversations, but also reluctant warmth and understanding. I have heard a great many things, rumours about the Prince and his dynastic family, but believe me when I say, none of what I have heard in my many years has sounded half as genuine as your own quiet but stark observations of him."

Belle looked up in surprise, having turned her face away from the old lady, and saw a tentative, almost sad smile playing on her lips. Her head was bent, softly urging Belle to look at her. It was then the young lady realized the old woman had known, almost from the start, there was much more to her story with the Prince than first divulged.

"I suspected something might have been there. I did not say anything because I did not wish for you to further isolate yourself. It is not good, not when you need to be kind to yourself and let others in and help you…"

Belle could no longer bear it. She could no longer ignore, no matter how silly she found it, she could not resist against the understanding, kind warm face that was staring back at her with a certain inevitability in her soft eyes which made Belle want to collapse and sob into her arms.

She waited for as long as possible before speaking, to collect herself and regain some form of composure. It wasn't simply that she was being truthful to the kind old lady sitting opposite her. No, it was being truthful to more than one person…

"It's so silly," whispered Belle, so still the wind could be heard whipping the hair around her face. "I understand, I know why I had to leave, I am not a simpleton…. I know what he is, who he is, it's just, it's just that I didn't know, I didn't know till he sent me away- "

"You didn't know until that moment what it was you felt and you wanted to blame him for it," said the beggar lady, her silver hair beginning to blow in the wind also as she lifted a hand to gentle rub Belle's arm. "Yes, I understand my dear, I have had a similar experience also."

Belle's eyes widened as the beggar woman proceeded to chuckle under her breath.

"Yes, I know I don't look it, but I, like you, once found myself in a similar situation with someone from a completely different world from my own. Worlds apart… It was only when I realized how I felt, I realized it was an impossible situation."

"What did you do?" asked Belle, blinking back some tears furiously, hoping they didn't spill. How embarrassing, she had not cried since she was a small child.

"Oh, if I told you that, that would be telling," said the old woman nebulously as she patted Belle's hand, a wry smile forming as she looked up at her. "All I will say is this. There is no shame in it, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, it is true and ought not to be dismissed lightly. The heart is more powerful than anything Belle, just remember that."

Belle furrowed her eyebrows, finding the old woman's advice to be too vague for her liking. It was all very well embracing one's own feelings, but what if those very feelings were causing harm, muddling one's mind to the point where they lost all sense of reason?

"I thank you for your kind words," said Belle, trying to sound genuine but failing miserably, "but that does not solve my dilemma. I want things to be as they were, before all this started. Everything is so confusing now and I do not know what to do with myself. It is not just because of him, but also my other experiences too, living in that castle. I can no longer be as I was."

"I believe my dear, that is called growing up," said the old woman, her voice soft but with hidden clarity. "Perhaps he was not entirely wrong in sending you away. Perhaps he saw you had outgrown the place and could do much more. Perhaps that is what caused such frustration to rise within you? Because he saw something you couldn't at the time."

"Are you suggesting I am stubborn?" replied Belle despite herself, turning to stare down at the beggar lady, who still continued to smile at her.

"No, no, my dear, just a little…"

The old woman paused and looked up at the setting sun hitting the horizon, the green hills dancing with the wind, creating a subtle sound of time passing on.

"Naïve," she said finally, her voice hazy as she turned to look at Belle. "But that is exactly what I would expect from a young lady who has never been in love before."

The word came jolting into our young heroine's world so pedantically, she hardly had time to process it in her head. Belle had avoided describing exactly what it was she felt for the Prince, hadn't want to inspect herself too closely for fear of what she might find. Yes, she had admitted there was clearly something, but she had not wanted to commit herself so fully to say…

To say that she was in love with him.

In love with a Duke…

How preposterous…

"Oh, my dear!"

Belle looked up to see the old woman was no longer smiling, but instead staring at her with concern ridden in her eyes.

"Here you go darling," she continued, reaching for something within a hidden inner pocket. "I am sorry, I did not mean to make you- "

Belle sharply lifted a hand to her cheek and it was only then she realized she had been crying openly and had not even noticed the tears falling down her face.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, her mind completely numb all of a sudden as the old lady gave her a small piece of cloth which she received gratefully.

"What have you to be sorry for!" exclaimed the beggar lady, for the first time sounding nearly cross. "Why, if I could see the Prince right now I would smack him over the head and- "

Belle stared as the old woman stomped her foot absentmindedly on the stone steps of the foundation and gave out a sharp huff of indignation.

"The only thing you need to understand mademoiselle, is that none of this is your fault," she said, her voice hard and brittle. "The Prince should have never approached you in the first place. He must have understood where it would inevitably lead. At least he let you go, that is something."

Belle said nothing at first, looking down at the purple handkerchief in her hand, now damp with her tears.

"Am I foolish for half wishing he hadn't, even if just for a while?"

It went against everything she knew to be true. Against her principles, her better judgement. The Belle she knew from a year ago would have stared at her with horror in her eyes.

"Forget I said anything," said Belle quickly, regretting her words almost immediately as she stood up and turned to leave. "I am a silly girl who was led astray. The Prince was right, I could not possible survive in his world, a strange world full of deception, illusion and very little else."

She had hoped that would have been the end of their conversation but as she stepped away, she heard a voice, a voice that seemed different to before and yet the same, speak.

"He was my husband."

It took a moment for Belle to understanding what the old lady was referring to, but as she turned to look at the intriguing woman, she saw her sitting a little straighter by the fountain, her green eyes piercing and without shadow. There was no trace of a smile.

"I told him it wouldn't work, but he persevered all the same. He turned my world upside down and I had to sacrifice a great many things. I do not regret it for one second."

Belle continued to stare with fascination as the old woman stood up and lent against her cane as she walked slowly towards her, her silver cap creeping out of her woollen scarf wrapped around her head.

"No matter what happens, do not forget who you are," said the old woman, looking quite solemn as she spoke. "But also remember that to love someone does not make you weak."

Belle felt her thoughts stop. Everything went still. Even the sound the fountain could not be heard as twilight mist began to settle around the square and people began to step outside, heading toward the tavern.

"I-" stammered Belle, not knowing how to respond but the old lady held up her hand steadily, that wry smile of hers now returning on her serene face.

"Just think on it child," said she, before patting her arm in a reassuring manner. "I think it may help you in moving forward. I suspect that is what he would want you to do as well."

"But I can't do that with him insisting on playing a part in my future!" exclaimed Belle, wanting to end their conversation due to the villagers reappearing once more and yet finding herself wanting more answers to questions that had haunted her for weeks.

"I understand mademoiselle," replied the old woman, sadness entering her hazel opaque eyes. "You never though, what to future holds…"

It was this last sentence which made Belle suddenly feel a little suspicious, as if something was not quite right with this simply beggar woman she thought she knew, but before she could question her words, her father appeared, panting as he strode towards them, lantern in hand.

"There you are Belle!" he exclaimed as he lifted the bright source of light, reflecting his neurotic expression more clearly, leaving Belle to feel even more the guilt that she had felt piling up inside herself, unable to explain to her father the reasons behind her odd behaviour.

"Do you realize what time it is?!" continued Maurice, almost sounding angry, which was a rare thing indeed, for he rarely scolded his daughter. "I have been worried sick! I thought something terrible had happened to you, like you had been snatched away and taken back to that horrible castle- "

"I'm sorry Papa," said Belle, grabbing hold of her father's hands as she tried to reassure him. "I thought track of the time and I was talking to- "

As she turned to gesture toward the old beggar woman, not for the first time, Belle noticed she had slipped away like ghost into the darkness.

…..

"I must say, I find it hard to believe your accounts so far. The picture painted to me makes the Prince look as if he did not think much of her at all, not in the deep and profound way you first described to me."

"I assure you, that is not the case. Despite what you saw that night at the ball, he has much altered since then, or rather, has reverted back to who he truly was, who I know him to be. Kind and understanding, thinking of others always, just like his mother."

"I hope you are right. Just as my hopes were lifted at the idea of this all ending pleasantly, to see this happen… I do worry for the future."

"As do I! But we must be patient… It is too early yet to know if his plan at helping her will take fruit. She had refused all his letters, his funds… I fear he will revert back to his depressed state and become as self-destructive as he used to be…"

"She cannot be the only reason. He must learn to stand up for himself, regardless of his own happiness."

"Why do you think he let her go in the first place!" exclaimed Mrs Potts, standing up abruptly before turning away, as her horse, who had been saddled up by the tree, became restless by her sudden movements.

"I know why," replied the old woman wrapped in the purple scarf, who was sitting by a make shift fire. "I know why he did it. Because his father has drummed all that nonsense into him..."

"It is not just that!" said Mrs Potts hoarsely as she wrapped her navy-blue cloak tightly around herself, looking wearily down the footpath to be sure no one was near. It was highly unlikely they would be seen, given where they were, deep in the forest.

"He truly believes he can help her," she continued, even as the beggar woman looked at her with doubt in her cloudy eyes. "He wants to help, but she won't accept anything!"

"And she in turn in miserable and understandably so!" replied the old woman as she stood up and reached for her cane. "I feel sorry for the poor child. I understand her. She values independence and has a moral conscience that no doubt weighs more the entire library of Alexandria! She wants to be judged by her merits and her merits alone."

"One cannot live that way," muttered Mrs Potts as she shook her head. "At some point or another- "

"I suspect she knows him well as well."

"Excuse me?" uttered the Head of Household, completely lost.

"If she were to accept, it would never end. Their bond is too strong, too powerful. They would not be able to sustain it as it is. Inevitably, if he is part of her life, he would not be able to keep his distance and stay away for long. I think somewhere, deep down, she knows that about him and about herself."

"Well," huffed Mrs Potts as she put her gloves on, getting ready to leave. She had already stayed away from the castle too long and she had to go back long before dawn would break. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"Nothing."

Mrs Potts gaped at the elderly woman.

"Do nothing?" she repeated.

"Precisely," replied her counterpart as she stomped out the remaining embers of the fire with her cane. "It is in their hands now. This is a test for Adam, and I want to see how he deals with it. It will prove to me if what you say is true and if so, then I know what I must do. Do you still have it?"

"Yes, of course," whispered Mrs Potts as she quickly fumbled through her pockets and pulling out a yellow piece of envelope with the words 'To Adam' written at the top.

"Good," said the old woman bluntly. "I am sorry I must ask you to hang on to it just a little longer till the time is right. I am sorry for the pressure Mrs Potts but you are the only one I trust."

"I understand," replied Mrs Potts even as she felt her heart sank. All this secrecy was taking its toll on her.

Something must have shown through her face, for the old beggar woman looked almost guilty, her stern expression turning softer and more kind.

"I apologize, dear friend, but it will not be long. I promise."