Chapter Three

The curse had only been lifted for a few hours, but Belle Dupont already had a sneaking suspicion that something else was terribly wrong.

She didn't recognise any of the men and women who were supposed to be from her village - and they kept calling it 'Villeneuve', not 'Molyneaux'. The fishmonger, greengrocer and barber looked nothing like the men she remembered, nor did they act like them; the bookseller, M. Morrell, was nowhere to be seen; and the elderly Père Robert, whose son had been doing most of the preaching for almost five years now, was suddenly young again, with no wife or children to speak of at all. The strangest thing was that they all recognised her, and talked about exploits of hers which certainly sounded like things that Belle would do - only she hadn't.

The castle staff were just as perplexing. Madame de la Grande Bouche seemed now to be married to a composer, who was also on the staff - a harpsichord named Cadenza, who Belle had never seen during the entire period she had lived at the castle. They spoke about things she had done with the Beast - with Vincent, she supposed - such as their dance, the snowball fight, and reading in the library; but the staff themselves were so different to how they had been that Belle found herself thoroughly confused. Mrs. Potts was so much younger than she had expected, Cogsworth so much older, and Mme. de la Grande Bouche - who seemed to go by Mme. de Garderobe - was no longer the couthy, exuberant figure Belle had known but a larger-than-life, albeit mildly melancholic, opera singer.

Vincent himself seemed similar enough to the Beast. Belle hadn't been able to talk to him for more than a few minutes at a time since they had entered the courtyard, and had not been alone with him at all since then, either. But given how happy everybody was, Belle couldn't find it in her heart to begrudge him for it - and it did something peculiar and warming to her heart to see him smile so widely. Love, you fool, she thought. Seeing him so happy, Belle resolved to wait before she told him of her suspicions - or, indeed, anybody. It was the happiest day of his life, and she didn't want to make anybody stressed or worried until she was absolutely certain that something else was wrong.

As the villagers who did not have friends or family in the castle began to walk back to Villeneuve, Madame de Garderobe beckoned Belle over and embraced her in a quick hug.

"I take it you would perhaps like to have your clothes back, Bella?"

"If that's not too much trouble," Belle smiled. They walked back to her room, although Madame's large, ornate gown caused her some trouble trying to enter the doorway. Eventually Belle darted into the room and pulled Madame in bodily, and the two women couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

"It seems we all transformed into what we were wearing all those years ago," Madame said. "And Bella, this is a beautiful dress, but perbacco - it is impossible to sit down in it, and I cannot wait to get it off!"

"Let me help you," Belle said. She carefully unlaced the bodice and skirt, helping Madame off with the panniers and sheer cascade of petticoats.

"Much better - grazie," she sighed once she was in a lighter, but still brightly coloured, day gown. "Bella, I believe your blue dress is around here somewhere."

"Found it," Belle smiled. She quickly dressed herself, feeling more at home than she had in hours. It was comforting, to have the same blue cotton under her fingers and white blouse under the bodice. She caught sight of herself in the mirror on her dresser, and paused for a moment. It was her body, the same as it always had been - light freckles, dark eyes and hair, and long limbs - but it looked different, somehow. Her face looked a few years older, her height no longer that of a growing adolescent, but a confident woman. After the night you just had? she thought. No wonder you look older.

"Well," Belle said, "I'm ready. Let's go down - I can't wait to see my father again."

"Bella - he is not here yet," Madame said with a frown. "You arrived by yourself, as far as we could tell, and he has not yet joined us at the castle."

"Oh," Belle said. She felt as if a large weight had settled in her stomach, at the prospect of her father being affected by this strange . . . thing as well. "Well, I suppose he'll come by soon. But we could still go down - I don't know about you, but I'm famished after all that!"

Madame laughed, and the two of them walked to the dining room where a quick cold lunch had been set up by Cuisinier and his staff. The food was enough to feed an army - which, Belle supposed, it needed to be, given how many people were in the castle at present. Suddenly hungry, Belle filled a small plate, eating quickly but heartily.

"Belle," Vincent called out. He had changed as well, into a blue shirt and navy trousers which fit him much better than what he was wearing before. He beckoned her over with one hand, a plate similarly filled in the other.

"Hello," she smiled, leaning up for a quick kiss. "This is all rather exciting, isn't it?"

He pressed his lips to hers, pulling away with a grin. "I have to agree," he said. "Seeing everybody reunite after so long apart, and being able to actually see everybody again, as well - it's more than I could have ever hoped for." Vincent sighed, his eyes somewhere far away, as if he was remembering the events of that fateful night the spell was cast. "Although," he added meditatively, "one reunion I am more than slightly worried about is the one with your father."

"Papa was perfectly willing to help me come back," Belle said. "He wanted me to help you - he knows how much you mean to me. He probably knew that I loved you before even I did."

Vincent smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "True. But I did lock him up in a tower, when we first met. Somehow I doubt his opinion of me will be favourable."

"It will," Belle said forcefully. "I'm his only daughter, and I like you just fine - he'll come around soon enough."

"Only 'just fine'?" Vincent asked, a teasing smile on his lips. "I could have sworn a moment ago that you said you loved me."

Belle laughed and elbowed him, rather than continue the joke. Vincent laughed, too, before taking his arm back to continue eating. They lunched together with the rest of the castle, enjoying the company and rejoicing in the end of the curse. It was the smallest of things - utterly ridiculous - but Belle couldn't help the feeling the Vincent was acting slightly differently, now that he was human.

After lunch, the man who used to be the coatrack - he had played the violin during their dance, Belle remembered - came up and tapped her on the shoulder.

"You father has arrived," he said in a low tone.

Belle set her plate down, rushing out to the hall. A tall man with greying hair was standing in the centre, gazing in wonder at the differences the transformation had wrought. At her entrance, he turned around. Belle rushed over to hug him, and Maurice staggered back for half a step before returning the hug - almost as if he was unused to the force of her embrace.

"Belle," he smiled.

"Papa," she replied, happy that he was safe again. "Oh, Papa, are you alright?"

"Of course, Belle," he said. "It was a little awkward, hanging around the village square until I had a horse again, but the driver for the Maison and I got a little better acquainted over those few hours."

"I -" Belle paused for a moment, unsure how to proceed. "I'm glad you're alright. But you're still ill - you should be resting."

"Not that ill," he said, reaching up to pinch her chin affectionately. "But is this what I have to look forwards to - the moment I admit I was a little overprotective of you, the tables turn for the next twenty-odd years?"

Belle laughed, although the uneasy feeling in her stomach only grew. "Papa, Vincent - the Beast - is next door. I want you two to meet under happy circumstances this time. I . . . I love him," she said, blushing prettily. "Please, I know he did a terrible thing, but he really has changed. He's almost dreading the meeting, so please don't be too harsh."

"You always were a good judge of character," Maurice grumbled, although his eyes twinkled. "But I certainly won't let him forget the ridiculousness of the fee for that rose anytime soon."

"Rose?" Belle asked. Her brow furrowed.

"The one you asked for, before I went to the fair!" Maurice said. "The rose that landed us in this whole mess - that rose!" He chuckled, keeping his arm around her shoulders, and walked into the dining room to meet Vincent.

Belle couldn't help feeling slightly ill. The man who was embracing her was not her father.

The day after the curse had broken, Belle Beaumont and Alexander were sitting next to each other in the library - ostensibly reading together, but in actuality spending more time smiling and gazing lovingly at each other. Although usually she and the Beast had read silently, discussing their books over meals and during plot twists, Alexander now seemed happy to read aloud with her, as if they were participating in a play. However, Belle reasoned, he was probably getting used to his changed voice again - she could hardly blame him for that.

"It seems almost unreal," he said, squeezing her hand gently. "Ten years, and now we're finally free."

"I'm just glad the curse broke in time to save your life," Belle said. "I can't imagine what would have happened if you had -" She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. Normally she wouldn't have had to, but the last twenty four hours had been very emotionally trying.

"It's alright," Alexander said, lifting her hand to kiss it gently. "I didn't. Although - how did you know about the curse?"

Belle frowned. He had been in the room with her when the servants had told her - but, she remembered suddenly, he had also been asleep. And in the weeks afterwards, neither had mentioned it to the other. Belle had assumed that Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth had told him about it at some point, but evidently they had not.

"Alexander, the castle was alive," she teased. "Give me a little credit here."

"Fair enough!" he laughed. "I suppose it was kind of obvious." He let their hands fall, bouncing off his leg with a faint thud. "I don't know what we're going to tell my uncle, though," Alexander said after a moment. "What possible excuse could we have for ten years' absence?"

"An illness, maybe?" Belle suggested. "You were quarantined here, but frequent resurgences prevented you ever coming back to the capital until just now? Just a thought."

"That could work," Alexander smiled. "I just hope that the regents won't be too upset at the miraculous 'recovery' that has taken place." He turned to look at her face-on, with soft and earnest eyes. "Now that I think about it, there was an outbreak of illness around that time. I remember that my cousin - the oldest, Francois - did actually fall ill. I . . . I hope he survived it." His gaze faltered.

"Maybe Cogsworth will know," Belle said. "Until we hear word, there's no way to be sure either way."

"You're right," Alexander said with a sad smile.

As if he had been waiting for an introduction, Cogsworth taped once on the door to announce his presence, before entering the room. "Mademoiselle - your father is awake."

"Thank goodness," Belle said, standing up immediately. "Alexander, do you mind if I -"

"Of course not!" he said. "Go to him - and if he's awake, please, could you tell him than I -"

"Of course," Belle said, pressing his hand. "He's . . . he's always been protective of me, but he didn't try to stop me when I came back here - he helped me get out of the village, instead. Papa will come around, if he hasn't already." She walked out the library to the room where Maurice was currently being tended to by the Mrs. Potts. As she left the room, she could hear Alexander begin to bring up the subject of an excuse for his uncle with Cogsworth.

Belle walked through the castle, nodding politely and greeting any servants she met with a polite smile. The transformation the castle had undergone made it seem almost completely different - more isolated and taller than she remembered it being, but with all the rooms more enclosed at the same time. She had noticed it yesterday, when the servants and Alexander were celebrating their new forms, but hadn't said anything about it - after all, she had never seen the castle before the curse. It had taken Belle far too long to realise that she had somehow been affected by the Enchantress' magic as well, as only once everybody was settled in the ballroom again had she noticed that she was back in her blue dress. It only made her feel more guilty about the ballgown she had abandoned on the road. Belle had met most of the servants yesterday as well, although she knew she hadn't greeted all of them yet - Maestro Cadenza, for one, and Plumette for another, who she still had to thank for her role during the battle.

Outside her father's room, Belle knocked on the door. Mrs. Potts opened it, ushering her in with a motherly pat on the shoulder, before leaving her alone with Maurice.

"Belle," Maurice smiled. "Come over here," he said, patting the space on the bed beside him.

Belle hopped up, both worried and touched by the gesture. While she had always been close to her father, they had never been ones for exchanging hugs very often. She rested her head on his shoulder, like she used to as a child, and clasped his hand gently.

"I was worried about you," she admitted quietly. "I didn't realise you were so ill, Papa. Why did you follow me?"

"I couldn't exactly stay in the village," Maurice said. "Not after what happened with Gaston - not to mention the house."

"The house?" Belle sat up suddenly, almost hitting Maurice's chin with the top of her head. "What happened to the house?"

"The woodchopper, remember? Chip came within an inch of destroying the whole foundation!" He laughed as he said it, and Belle joined in weakly. "I know your head is somewhat in the clouds, my girl, but I would have thought you'd remember that!" He slung an arm around her shoulders, rubbing his fingers in little circles before dropping a familiar kiss on her forehead. Belle froze.

"Well, Papa," she said weakly, "It has been a busy day and a bit." She smiled at him again, and listened to him chatter on about how kind and attentive Mrs. Potts had been to him - something which her quiet, stoic, father would never have done, unless they were discussing books together. And suddenly, all of the little things she had noticed - Alexander not knowing that she knew about the curse, the servant's varying ages, her change of wardrobe, the ever-so-slightly different way Alexander acted with her, and now her father - pointed to one logical conclusion.

Something else was terribly wrong.

A/N: That took forever, and I can blame at least part of it on writer's block when it comes to Belle Beaumont and the '91 verse. (good band name or what?)

M. Morrell's name is taken from 'The Count of Monte Cristo', and the minister will be called Père Robert in both versions for simplicity.

Madame de Garderobe calling Belle 'Bella' is not a typographical error, but something I came up with when I was RP'ing her on Bittersweet and Strange; it made sense to me that since she's Italian, she would call her something mildly different - after all, 'her name means "beauty"'!. De La Grande Bouche, as far as I'm aware, is the Wardrobe's name in the musical.

So now both Belles know that something's up! Look forwards to character development and *-*-*magical dream sequences*-*-* in the next few instalments!

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