I did the best I could to make this chapter interesting. I know that it's dull reading stuff almost directly from the movie, but I tried to make it entertaining. I hope you like it anyway. Unfortunately it is necessary. I can't just go from Belle living in the town to living in the Beast's castle, after all. I added a few scenes and cut out some parts that I didn't think were necessary so I hope that it's not as boring as it could be.

PLUGTIME: I wrote a quick Beauty and the Beast oneshot for Father's Day last week. Unlike my other one shots, it's not tied into the Crimson Threads universe, but it's nice and fluffy all the same. It is called 'As The Sun Will Rise' and you can find it in my profile.

I'm going to take a break from writing for a few weeks to concentrate on studying for my exams so the next update may take a little longer than usual. For those of you who are waiting for updates for my other three Beauty and the Beast stories... I'm so sorry. You're going to have to wait until the second week of July at the very earliest. Again, I am sorry.

Oh, and if I don't update for a while, it just means I am busy. I don't intend on abandoning any of my stories. They're my word-babies. I could never abandon them.

Chapter Thirty-Two

November 19th, 1759

Belle stepped out the front door of her cottage, carefully closed the door behind her, and skipped down the stairs. She made her way down the long dirt path that led to the village, reaching out her hand to interact with a pair of birds as they flew past her.

She and her father had been living in the village for over six months now and she was already counting down the days until the eleventh of May, which would mark the one year anniversary of her and her father's move to the village. She couldn't stand living there. Nothing exciting ever happened. Every single day was like the one that came before it. She'd expected village life to be dull, but not this dull.

As she crossed the bridge and stepped over the borders of the village, she was greeted with a cacophony of 'bonjours'. In the distance, she saw Henri the baker selling a loaf of bread to the wife of the barber. Xavier Lachance walked past her, wheeling a cart of pumpkins. He lifted his hat to her and Belle politely bowed in response.

"Good morning, Belle," she heard Henri say behind her.

"Good morning!" Belle sang, whirling around and bounding towards him.

"Where are you off to?" asked Henri, setting his tray of bread down on the counter of his shop.

"The bookshop. I just read the most wonderful story," Belle gushed, pulling Jack and the Beanstalk out of her basket to show him. "It was about a beanstalk and an ogre and-"

"That's nice," said Henri dismissively. "Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!"

Belle shrugged her shoulders and continued on her way.

"Look, there's Belle," she heard Madame Tolbert whisper. "Off to the bookshop again, no doubt. What a funny girl."

"There's no question about that," agreed Madame Mynatt. "Always walking around in a daze, with her head up in the clouds. There is something not quite right about that girl."

Ignore them, Belle told herself as she jumped onto a wagon being driven by Andre Monet, a farmer who lived just outside of town and was courting Berenice. She glanced at Madame Simon, a mother of five children who made Belle tired just looking at her. She passed by Emma Rey, owner of an enormous bosom that drove bother men and their wives wild. Belle leapt gracefully from the wagon as it passed by the bookshop. She pushed open the door and heard the familiar bell signal her arrival.

"Ah, Belle," Theseus greeted her.

"Good morning!" Belle chirped. She retrieved Jack and the Beanstalk from her basket and handed it to the bookseller. "I've come to return the book I borrowed."

"Finished already?" asked Theseus as he watched Belle walk hungrily towards the books.

"I couldn't put it down," answered Belle, inspecting the top shelves. "Have you got anything new?"

"Not since yesterday," replied Theseus, chuckling as he put Jack and the Beanstalk back in its place.

"That's alright," said Belle as she spied one of her old favourites. She plucked it from the shelf and handed it to Theseus. "I'll borrow this one."

"That one? But you've read it twice!" exclaimed Theseus, inspecting the book Belle had given him.

"It's one of my favourites!" cried Belle. "Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!

Theseus chuckled. It seemed as though every book was one of Belle's favourites.

"Well, if you like it all that much, it's yours!" he told her.

Theseus had developed a fatherly fondness for Belle over the past few days. It was nice having someone to talk to about books. His wife had the attention span of a toddler and his own daughters were far too interested in Gaston to care about books. There was light at the end of the tunnel, however. In just a few weeks, his daughters would turn twenty-one and would begin their studies, which, he hoped, would put an end to this Gaston nonsense once and for all.

As Belle waved good bye to Theseus, she caught a glimpse of three men who were standing by the window of the bookshop. They always seemed to turn up whenever she went to the village. While the attention they gave her was flattering, it made Belle feel rather uncomfortable and she wished they would mind their own business. Putting the gawkers out of her mind, she opened up her book and began to devour its delicious contents.

Belle successfully skipped through a jump rope, patted Rosie on the head, and prevented herself from being drenched with washing water (well, she hoped it was washing water) without once looking up from her book. When she reached the village square, she sat down at the fountain so that she could fully enjoy her favourite part of the book, in which Prince Charming met the young peasant girl while in disguise. As she enveloped herself in the story, she began to sing to the nearest living being, which happened to be one of Farmer Bonnaire's sheep.

Genevieve Thilbaut, who had been washing her clothes in the fountain, looked up when she heard the singing. Upon seeing that Belle was sitting on the other side of the fountain, she scowled, threw her clothing back into her washing basket, and stalked off. Genevieve despised that girl. She was always walking around the village, reading and acting as though she was better than the rest of them.

"Her parents named her well," commented Madame Lemaire as she watched Belle pass by the hat shop.

"Who?" asked Monsieur Allard, the town's milliner and wig maker.

"Belle," replied Madame Lemaire. "She's an unparalleled beauty."

"She's rather odd, though," said Monsieur Allard. "She's nothing like the rest of us. It's a shame she doesn't fit it."

"Indeed," agreed Madame Lemaire. "It's a good thing she's so beautiful. She doesn't have much else going for her."

A gunshot went off and a goose fell from the sky and landed just a few inches away from where LeFou was waiting with an open bag.

"Wow! You didn't miss a shot, Gaston!" exclaimed LeFou, staring up at his hero with a look of pure admiration in his eyes. "You're the greatest hunter in the whole world!"

"I know," said Gaston, triumphantly blowing the smoke away from the muzzle of his gun.

"No beast alive stands a chance against you," LeFou told him. "And no girl for that matter!"

"It's true, Lefou, and I've got my sights set on that one!" exclaimed Gaston, pointing towards Belle, who had gotten so engrossed in her book that she had stopped walking altogether and was now standing in the middle of the street.

"The inventor's daughter?" asked LeFou in disbelief. Surely Gaston had to be mistaken. Belle may have been beautiful, but she was as nutty as a squirrel.

"She's the one!" Gaston confirmed. "The lucky girl I'm going to marry."

"But she's-" began LeFou.

"The most beautiful girl in town," Gaston interrupted, slicking back his hair.

"I know-"

"And that makes her the best," said Gaston.

Gaston caught his gorgeous reflection in the back of a pan in a nearby shop and began to admire himself. He deserved the best and only the best. Belle was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was the only one in the village that came close to being worthy of his attentions. She was the only girl in town as beautiful as him. Well, that wasn't quite true. He found it hard to believe that anyone could be as attractive as him, but she was probably the closest he would ever come to finding a true equal. He was determined to make her his wife, and he wasn't going to let anything stand in his way.

He tore himself away from the pan and noticed Belle making her way down the street. He quickly started chasing after her, passing by the Devin sisters on his way.

"Look, there he goes!" gasped Xanthia.

"Isn't he dreamy?" sighed Acantha.

"He's so cute," cooed Phaedra

The three girls just did not understand why Belle wasn't interested in Gaston. It didn't make any sense to them. He was handsome, talented, and well-respected. He would be the perfect husband. He was a tad egomaniacal, but they couldn't blame him. They'd be egomaniacal too, if they were as perfect as he was. Nevertheless, they couldn't be happier that Belle wasn't interested in him.

Just before Belle reached the borders of the village, she couldn't help but get the feeling that she was being watched. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, shrugged, and turned back to her book. She must have been imagining it.

"Hello, Belle," said a loud, booming voice.

Belle tried as best she could not to let out an audible groan.

"Bonjour, Gaston," she said, just before her book was ripped from her hands. "Gaston, may I have my book, please?" she asked as politely as she could, trying to grab the book back from him.

"How can you read this?" Gaston asked, holding the book out of Belle's reach. "There's no pictures."

"Some people use their imaginations," Belle replied snidely. Gaston tended to bring out her worst side.

"Belle, it's about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things," Gaston boomed. Belle watched in horror as he tossed her book into a small puddle of mud nearby. "Like me!"

Belle heard the Devin sisters sigh as she hastily fished her book out of the mud. Why couldn't Gaston bother one of them? Or some other girl who actually showed interest in him? Unfortunately, Gaston was too arrogant and pig-headed to realise that there were actually people in the world who didn't worship the ground he walked on.

"The whole town's talking about it," Gaston continued. "It's not right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas and thinking." A look of disgust spread across Gaston's face, as if a woman using her brain was the most revolting thing he could possibly imagine.

"Gaston, you are positively primeval," Belle told him, wiping the mud of the book with her apron.

"Why thank you, Belle," Gaston said proudly. Belle couldn't work out if he actually considered being primeval to be a positive trait or if he just didn't know what the word meant. Presumably the latter, though the other option seemed just as likely. "Whaddya say you and me take a walk over to the tavern and take a look at my trophies?" suggested Gaston, once again snatching the book from Belle's grip and pushing her along with his grotesquely muscular arm.

"Maybe some other time," said Belle, quickly snatching the book back before Gaston could do any further harm to it. "Please, Gaston, I can't. I have to get home and help my father."

"That crazy old loon? He needs all the help he can get!" exclaimed LeFou. He and Gaston burst into a fit of taunting laughter.

"Don't talk about my father that way!" said Belle angrily. There was only one thing Belle hated more than seeing books being harmed, and that was her father being insulted. "He's not crazy. He's a genius!"

Belle heard a loud explosion sound from behind her. She whirled around and saw smoke coming from her house. Ignoring Gaston and LeFou's laughter, she frantically ran up the path and threw open the doors to her father's workshop.

"Papa?" she called, making her way into the smoke-filled cellar. "Are you alright, Papa?"

"I'm about ready to give up on this hunk-of-junk," Maurice muttered, kicking his invention, which, to Belle, looked like a furnace with gears, levers, an axe, and a kettle sticking out of it.

"You always say that," Belle pointed out.

"I mean it this time!" her father growled. "I'll never get this bone-headed contraption to work."

"Yes, you will. And you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow," Belle said encouragingly. Maurice harrumphed. Belle leaned down and put her hands on her father's shoulders. "And you will become a world-famous inventor."

It seemed like this happened every few days. Maurice would get discouraged about his invention, lose faith in his ability, and Belle would have to cheer him up and persuade him to keep working on it. It was a routine she remembered very well from her childhood. One of her earliest memories was of her watching her mother try to cheer her father up after one of his inventions had been destroyed after he had spent months working on it. A few months ago, Belle had found herself in her mother's place, comforting Maurice after her father's first design for the wood-chopper had been blown up after weeks of hard work.

"You really believe that?" Maurice asked, cheering up slightly.

"I always have," Belle told him fondly.

"What are we waiting for then?" asked Maurice, dancing towards his invention. "I'll have this thing fixed in no time. Hand me that dodecaglitchid."

Maurice climbed underneath his contraption. Belle dug out a peculiar-looking tool from the toolbox and brought it to her father. Maurice had created this tool himself, though Belle wasn't entirely sure what he used it for.

Maurice had been working on this invention for the past six months. Ariana Devin, the bookseller's wife, had suggested he enter it in a competition that was held in Nevers each November. Maurice was certain that this invention would finally be their ticket to a better life. Belle was just glad that her father had finally gotten his passion for inventing back after almost an entire decade.

"Did you have a nice time in town today?" Maurice called, his voice muffled by his contraption.

"I got a new book," said Belle. She thought back to the women she had heard gossiping about her in the village. She did her best to ignore the villagers when they talked about her, but the whispers followed her everywhere she went. She couldn't help but feel insecure whenever she was in the village, even though she tried to hide her pain as best she could. "Papa, do you think I'm odd?"

"My daughter? Odd? Where would you get an idea like that?" asked Maurice, peeking out from under his contraption. He was wearing a pair of goggles that made his forest-green eyes look five times bigger than they actually were.

"It's just I'm not sure I fit in here," admitted Belle, pressing her book to her chest. "There's no one I can really talk to."

That wasn't strictly true. There was Rosie and Theseus, of course. Theseus's wife Ariana was also rather friendly with her, but Belle wanted to talk to someone her own age. All the girls close to her age were obsessed with Gaston. When they weren't talking about him, they were discussing sewing, knitting, and cooking, which were all subjects Belle knew absolutely nothing about and had no interest in.

"What about that Gaston?" asked Maurice, still underneath his invention. "He's a handsome fella!"

Belle frowned. If her father knew what Gaston and LeFou had been saying about him just a few moments earlier, he probably wouldn't be singing Gaston's praises. How on earth did Gaston expect her to be interested in him when he spoke about her father the way he did, anyway?

"He's handsome all right," said Belle. "And rude and conceited and... Oh Papa, he's not for me!"

"Well, don't you worry. This invention's going to be the start of a new life for us," Maurice assured his daughter, slipping out from underneath his contraption. "It think that's done it. Let's give it a try."

Maurice pulled the handle and smoke began to rise from the invention. Both he and Belle ducked for cover, just in case. The gears began to grind, the kettle began to boil, and the various other objects spun around and made humming noises. The axe at the end of the contraption extended forward and successfully chopped the log in front of it in two and one of the halves flew up and landed in the pile of wood on the opposite side of the room.

An hour later, after a quick celebration, Belle waved good bye to her father and watched him disappear out of sight. She wanted more than anything for her father to succeed at the fair. Not only would they be able to leave this town earlier than they had anticipated, but they would finally have enough money to travel around and go to all the places Belle had dreamed about going to.

"Philippe!" Maurice called hopelessly into the darkness. "Philippe?"

It was no use. Philippe had gone running off into the distance. There was no way Maurice would be able to catch up to him. He frowned. Perhaps he should have taken the other road. As he picked up his hat, he heard a growl in the distance. He looked up and saw three sets of yellow wolf eyes glowing in the distance. He let out a gasp and started to run away as fast as his short legs could carry him. He tripped over a tree root and fell down into a ditch. He looked up and saw a set of wrought iron gates. He glanced back at the wolves who were hastily moving towards him. He had no choice.

He quickly ran to the gates and began to bang on them. They opened just in time for him to fall inside before the wolves got to him. One of the wolves took hold of one of his boots but, after a slight struggle, Maurice managed to get free. He turned around and saw an enormous castle standing before him.

Just when Maurice thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, it started to rain. Deciding that he had no choice, he ran to the door of the castle and started to bang on it. The door seemed to open on its own. Maurice wandered in and found himself in a huge, empty foyer. He closed the door and walked in.

"Help! Is someone there?" Maurice called, looking around the enormous foyer. "Hello?"

It was hard to tell exactly what they were saying, but Maurice could have sworn he heard someone talking. He looked around.

"Is someone there?" he called. "I don't mean to intrude, but I've lost my horse and I need a place to stay for the night."

"Oh, Cogsworth, have a heart."

Maurice heard a scream and whirled around. He had definitely heard a voice that time.

"Of course, monsieur, you are welcome here," said man's voice.

"Who said that?" asked Maurice, looking around. He grabbed a candelabra and looked around.

"Over here," the voice said again.

Maurice whirled around and felt someone tap his bald head. He looked up at the candelabra.

"'Allo," said the candelabra in a strong northern accent. Maurice let out a yell of surprise and dropped the candelabra to the ground.

"Incredible," he murmured to himself. He may as well just give up now. There was no way he was ever going to beat the inventor who lived in this castle. A reddish-brown clock hopped down from the table and started talking to the candelabra, referring to it as Lumiere.

"How is this accomplished?" Maurice said to himself. He picked up the clock, whom Maurice assumed was Cogsworth, and began to inspect with it curiously. He opened up the clock's chest and fiddled with the pendulum.

"Close that at once!" ordered Cogsworth, slamming the door shut. "Do you mind?"

Maurice struggled to explain his situation to the two of them, but sneezed right into Cogsworth's face instead.

"Oh, you are soaked to the bone, monsieur," said Lumiere. "Come, warm yourself by the fire."

Maurice was led into a big cosy room with a fireplace and he sat down in a big, soft armchair. An ottoman, which sounded and behaved like a dog, came running up to him. Maurice patted it and the ottoman moved under his feet. He also met a coat rack wearing a top hap, a kindly old English teapot, and her son, a young tea pot with a chip in his rim. Just when he was beginning to get comfortable, he heard the room's doors fly open. The furniture shivered and huddled together. Maurice felt a shadow fall over him.

"There's a stranger here," said a deep growling voice.

"M-master, allow me to explain," Lumiere stammered. "The gentleman lost his way in the woods and-"

A roar quickly silenced the candelabra. Maurice looked around and came face-to-face with the most hideous, terrifying face he had ever seen.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the monster demanded.

"I-I was lost in the woods and-" Maurice began to stammer, slinking away from the monster.

"You're not welcome here!" the monster roared

"I-I'm sorry," Maurice stammered.

"What are you staring at?" growled the monster, standing up on its hind legs. "So, you've come to stare at the Beast, have you?"

"I meant no harm! I just wanted a place to stay-" Maurice began to explain.

"I'll give you a place to stay," the Beast snarled.

The Beast picked Maurice up by the back of his clothing and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"What are you going to do to me?" Maurice screamed.

The Beast ignored Maurice's screams and yells. After a while, the two of them reached the very top of the castle. The Beast threw Maurice inside a cold, dirty cell, locked the door, and disappeared.

"Let me out!" Maurice yelled. "I have a daughter who already lost her mother! She can't lose me as well."

He had set out on his journey with the goal of achieving a better life for himself and his daughter. What was going to happen to Belle now? His heart ached as he imagined Belle starving on the streets. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Belle was a beautiful, intelligent, cultured young woman. Eligible future husbands would be lining up for her hand in marriage. But then, Belle had made foolish romantic decisions before. What if she ended with a man who was charming and sweet on the outside, but cruel and abusive on the inside? He had promised Sofia that he would look after Belle and make sure that she led a good, fulfilling, happy life. This was all his fault. If only he had chosen to take the other road…

"More tea, Ariana?" Marie asked as she poured another cup of tea for herself.

"No, thank you, Marie. We really must be getting home. It's getting late and I've got some important business to attend to." Ariana set down her tea cup and looked to her three daughters who were sitting side-by-side on the settee. "Come along, girls."

Before any of them could stand up, there was a knock at the door. Henri came bustling out of the kitchen and opened the front door. Moments later, Gaston strode into the parlour with Henri and LeFou following close behind. Acantha, Phaedra, and Xanthia let out a simultaneous sigh.

"Gaston, what a surprise!" Marie greeted him. "What brings you here so late at night?"

"I'm getting married," he told them, looking very proud of himself.

"Married?" chorused the Devin sisters. All three of them promptly burst into a fit of tears. Ariana rolled her eyes.

"That's fantastic, Gaston!" exclaimed Henri. "Congratulations!"

"Tomorrow's the big day," said Gaston. "I want the cake to be ready by noon."

"Tomorrow?" repeated Henri, alarmed. "I wish you would have told me sooner."

"Who is the lucky girl, Gaston?" asked Marie.

"Belle."

"Belle?" repeated Marie. "You mean barmy book-reading Belle, the inventor's daughter?"

"That's her," said Gaston, who had caught his reflection in one of the windows and was inspecting his muscles. "She's the only one in town suitable for me to marry."

This just made the triplets cry even louder. Ariana took three large handkerchiefs out from her pocket and handed them to her daughters.

"She's never mentioned anything about being engaged to me before," said Marie, frowning. "When did you ask her?"

"I haven't yet," replied Gaston. "I want it to be a big surprise for her. She's going to be thrilled."

"I don't know about that, Gaston. Women tend to like knowing about their wedding in advance," Marie said, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe that's true for women who aren't marrying me," said Gaston. "But no woman in her right mind would turn me down."

Ariana grinned. She contemplated telling Gaston that Belle was going away with her father, but decided that the disappointment and humiliation he would receive when he discovered Belle wasn't home would be good for his ego. In the distance, she suddenly heard the familiar cry of one of the wolves who lived in the nearby forest.

"Excuse me, I have some business to attend to," Ariana told Marie and Henri. She turned to her daughters. "I'll see you at home, girls."

A small pack of wolves were waiting for Ariana on the outskirts of the village, just outside of Belle and Maurice's property.

"Did she make it there?" she asked them, setting herself down on a rock near the stream.

Ariana listened intently as the head of the pack let out a few small barks. Three other members of the pack whimpered in agreement.

"Only her father made it there? That's odd." Ariana opened a small, golden, heart-shaped locket that was hanging on a gold chain around her neck. Inside was a seemingly ordinary mirror. "Show me Belle," she ordered.

The locket began to glow bright green before an image appeared on the mirror. Belle was lying asleep in her bed with an open book lying next to her face.

"She must have chosen to stay home," said Ariana, frowning. "I should have made my hints more obvious." She looked back down at the mirror. "Show me Maurice."

The locket glowed green once again and the mirror changed to show an image of Maurice sleeping on a pile of straw in a darkened cell.

"He imprisoned him," Ariana said to herself. She shook her head. "I'd have thought he would have learned from the first time." She looked back down at the wolves. "Seek out her horse and send him back to their cottage," she ordered. "If her horse returns home, but her father doesn't, Belle will be worried and go to investigate. The Beast will probably imprison her as well."

Ariana paused and wondered whether this was truly the right thing to do. Belle hadn't done anything wrong. Was it really right to punish her? Ariana quickly put the thought out of her mind. If the Beast didn't break the spell by the time the last petal fell, she would free Belle herself, and if he did manage to break the spell, the prince would marry her, she would become a princess, and the two of them would live happily ever after.

The Beast curled up on the mess of feathers, velvet, and wood that used to be his bed. He thought about the old man imprisoned in his castle and felt a twinge of guilt. Was he really right to have locked him up? He had only come into the castle in search of shelter, after all. He quickly put the thought out of his mind. Of course he was right. The man had trespassed. That was all that mattered. He couldn't let him go now, anyway. He could not risk the chance of the man going back to his village and telling others about the monster in the castle.

If only it had been a woman around his own age who had wandered into the castle, the Beast bitterly thought to himself. Of course, the only way he would be able to get her to stay would be to imprison her as well. That would hardly be an appropriate start for a relationship. He would most likely never be able to win her affections after that. It wasn't worth thinking about. It had taken well over nine years for a human being to enter his castle. The chances of another one, let alone one he could picture himself growing to love, wandering into his castle over the next three months were extremely slim.

A thought struck the Beast. Perhaps the enchantress didn't strictly mean romantic love when she was telling him how to break the spell. He could attempt to grow close to the old man and hope that, someday, the two of them would form a father and son-like bond. No, that would be impossible after the way the Beast had treated him. It would take a lot longer than three months to repair the damage he had done. He might as well face it now. He was going to be a Beast forever, no matter what happened.