Depravity: A Beauty and the Beast Novel (A Beastly Tale Book 1)

by M. J. Haag

  “Tennen was in the cottage when I returned from the school. There was no doubting his intentions. I ran out the back door straight toward the estate, hoping to lose him in the mist.” I decided to skip the part where Tennen had almost caught me, too. “The estate let me enter, giving me refuge and that shirt because I was soaked from the rain.”

  He listened intently and looked up from the shirt when I finished.

  “The rain kept us on the road longer than I’d planned,” he said. “I had anticipated returning before you returned from the schoolhouse. When we didn’t, I worried about you. Then, arriving home late and finding your bed empty...” He sighed. “I’m very relieved you weren’t forced into...” He shook his head unable to finish.

  “Staying at the estate wasn’t so bad,” I admitted.

  “I advise you to avoid going near it for a while. The beast neither forgets nor forgives trespassers. You’re very fortunate to have walked away as many times as you have.”

  Watching him walk to his chair behind the desk, I realized he wasn’t referring to my jaunts to search for food, but that he knew about my other trespasses. I didn’t wonder how. As the schoolteacher, he heard all the whispered rumors from the village children. No doubt someone had witnessed or heard something.

  “At the time of each trespass, I feel I made the best choice of those given me.”

  “You usually do,” he said with a half-smile. “Now excuse me while I compose a hopefully polite refusal to an unknown person. Tomorrow, I’ll ask the baker if he noted anyone of interest passing through.”

  My stomach sank, but not with mention of the baker. The arrival of the shirt on my bed and the trunk at the door could not be coincidence.

  “Father, it bothers me that this suitor mentioned no name, just wrote daughter. Perhaps when you word your reply, you could mention Blye’s name so there is no mistake about which daughter this person would expect if you come to an agreement.”

  Father made a thoughtful noise and nodded. Already his eyes drifted to the window as he sank into thought. I left him quietly with his new shirt and crept to my own bed.

  * * * *

  I woke late after having trouble sleeping the night before. The sun already rose above the treetops when I stepped outside dressed in trousers and Father’s old shirt. I finished braiding back my hair as I walked east toward the river. My bag bounced gently against my hip with nothing but a bit of string and a hook in it. Today, I’d fish.

  At the stream, I peeled off my boots and socks. The chill from the spring ground penetrated my feet, but I ignored it as I rolled up my pant legs. I’d fished before and knew the risks. Hooks were precious, and if the line pulled too taut, I would be forced to step into the water. Walking home with cold wet feet would make for a miserable journey.

  Finding a long, straight branch thin enough to hold over the water proved to be a bit of a challenge. It took me a good hour, and I wished I hadn’t been so careless with my old rod last summer. I’d accidentally stepped on it while pitching hay into the shed for the goat. Since I typically stored it in the rafters, I had no idea why it’d been on the ground in the first place. I’d been especially careful with it because I’d had such luck—we had fish for almost three weeks straight—before the fatal break.

  After peeling offshoots from the branch, I tied the string on the end, baited my hook, and set to work enjoying a quiet afternoon while nibbling on day-old peapods. Too soon, I had enough fish to fill my string. While sitting on the bank to put on my socks, a loud caw from across the stream slowed my progress as I looked up. Perched on a thick branch of a tree on the other side of the stream, a crow watched me with one eye while its head turned toward the north.

  “Mr. Crow, are you following me?” I asked with amusement. It blinked an eye at me but remained quiet.

  As long as it only watched, I didn’t mind its presence. I didn’t, however, want it driving me back to the estate. After tugging on the last boot and tying the lacing, I pulled the smallest fish from my line and set it on the ground.

  “Here you go.”

  I stood and casually walked away. When I heard a rapid flap of wings, I casually looked over my shoulder and watched the crow land and feast on the fish. Smiling, I journeyed home, lengthening my strides so the fish didn’t turn bad before I got there.

  Bryn didn’t look too pleased when I presented her with a dozen fillets.

  “I hope I marry soon,” she muttered. “I won’t tolerate another three weeks of fish.”

  Realization about what had actually happened to my old fishing pole hit me, and I took care to hide the current pole well before returning to clean up the fish remains. It was smelly business, but the garden did well when I buried the remains.

  Washing up outside with a harsh lye soap to rid myself of the smell, I wasn’t surprised to hear the flap of wings and a caw nearby. The crow sat perched on the shed roof.

  “Sorry,” I said, watching the creature while I dried my hands. “I buried the remains of the others in the garden.”

  “I need you to buy some flour,” Bryn called from inside.

  I made a face. I had avoided the baker since he’d stopped by to speak with Father. Why would I march right into his store?

  “Please ask Blye.”

  “I can’t go!” Blye cried from the open window of our bedroom. “I’m working on the dress to show the seamstress in the Water, and Father’s asked me to take in a shirt he somehow acquired.”

  It pleased me to know he didn’t tell Blye the shirt came from me or, rather, the estate through me. She would insist I go back and try to procure more clothes. But I didn’t like that she refused to fetch the flour.

  “Bryn, can’t you go?”

  “I’d rather not face...”

  I sighed. Her need to avoid Tennen was due to wounded pride over her own stupidity. My reason to avoid the baker was self-preservation. Still, I knew I’d go.

  “Fine. I’ll need to change.” I wouldn’t walk into the village wearing a threadbare shirt that easily displayed the outline of my bindings.

  “Just hurry,” Bryn said impatiently. Holding in the urge to make a face at her, I marched to our room, where Blye sat on the bed concentrating on her stitching, and quickly changed into the dress.

  When I went to the kitchen to ask Bryn for the coin I needed for the flour, she handed me peas. I wanted to scream. Instead, I stomped my way into the village, marched through the front door of the bakery and asked to speak with Mrs. Medunge. Of course, the baker’s sister went to fetch him instead.

  “Benella,” he said when he walked through the door from the back. “So lovely today. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to trade these peas for flour,” I spoke woodenly, setting the cloth wrapped bundle on the counter. It was the same cloth they’d loaned for the flour the first time.

  “I’m sorry, my dear—”

  I would never be his dear.

  “—but I can’t trade. It’s coin only. If others heard I accepted produce for flour, no one would want to pay me coin again, and I’d be overrun with produce.”

  “I understand.” I scooped up the peas with two hands and left the cloth on the counter. “The cloth is yours. Good day.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait. I hate seeing you leave upset. Come in back, and we’ll talk.”

  I kept walking, and he called after me again. Next, I went to the butcher and asked if he would trade a copper for the peas. He apologized and explained that he’d taken trade in payment for the last several days and had no coin, affirmation that the baker’s assessment of trade had a grain of truth. When I stepped out, the baker stood in the door and silently waved me back across the street; but I had another option left to me. Cutting diagonally across the road, I used the toe of my boot to knock at the candle maker’s door.

  The candle maker opened the door for me after several long minutes, during which I endured the baker’s constant stare.

  “Benella, come in,” he said with
a small smile. “What do you have there?”

  “Peapods. Would you be willing to trade? I need a copper to buy flour.”

  “Ah.” He nodded in understanding, holding out his hands. My shoulders sagged in relief.

  “What happened to the blunt silver?”

  Groaning before I stopped myself, I admitted, “I gave it to someone who needed it more.”

  “Interesting that Mrs. Coalre came in just yesterday to buy a candle. I thought they were out of coin, too.”

  I remained quiet and watched him set the peas on his table so he could shuffle over to a shelf.

  “I’m not one for peas, but you allowed me to hold the flowers without asking for payment, so I can hardly deny you such a small request.” He plucked a coin from a very tiny pile and brought it to me.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, grateful for his kindness.

  “Go buy your flour, dear,” he said with a small wave as he settled back at his chair.

  I promised myself that I would venture to the estate soon and circle it as many times as needed until it surrendered some more of those rare blooms.

  The baker brightened when he saw me step from the candle maker’s but frowned at my empty hands. I marched up to him, pulled a cloth from my bag—one of Father’s old neckcloths—and handed him the coin without trying to step inside.

  “However much flour that will buy me, please,” I spoke softly, trying to keep the anger from my tone.

  He turned and handed both to his sister.

  “A handful, no more,” he cautioned her before turning back to me with a slight scowl.

  We stood several feet apart, but I felt like I faced him toe to toe. I kept my face impassive until he heaved a sigh and let his eyes drift to my chest. Thankfully, his sister didn’t leave him much time to stare.

  Accepting the bag, I quickly retreated, meeting up with Father as he left the school.

  “What have you been up to?” he asked, eyeing the street behind me.

  “Bryn sent me for flour.” I’d kept my tone pleasant, but he paused to study me.

  “Very unkind,” he said before walking again.

  “It wasn’t intentionally so,” I said, defending her. “She’s upset that Tennen hasn’t tried to offer for her even though she knows you wouldn’t agree to the match. She thought he had affection for her and isn’t seeing anything beyond her wounded pride.”

  He said nothing. When we arrived home, I handed the flour to a mildly surprised Bryn and went to change back into my trousers. To occupy myself, I weeded the small garden while dinner cooked. In the quiet, I remembered the crow and looked to the roof of the shed.

  The crow was gone.

  * * * *

  I believed the breaded fish tasted delightful but kept that thought to myself, fearing for my new pole. Everyone ate in silence, and I wondered why. They didn’t leave me wondering long.

  “Do you think we’ll hear anything tonight?” Blye asked.

  Father set his fork aside and steepled his fingers. “I wouldn’t presume to guess. The note was notoriously brief, and we have no idea if the man in question lingered in the area. Travel may have been the reason for his request to take you with him last night. We can only wait and see.”

  She went back to eating in silence, but the conversation had me straining to hear outside the cottage. Would we walk out in the morning to find another note on the door?

  * * * *

  The next morning, nothing waited outside. Bryn started packing in earnest while Blye went back to her quiet sewing. Father, having no students to teach that day, insisted on walking with me as I foraged. Typically on the days he didn’t need to teach, he used the time in his study to research. Having moved many of his books already, no doubt his reduced selection had something to do with his wish to accompany me.

  The sun shone brightly as we walked toward the estate.

  “Nothing from the mysterious suitor last night?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “To your sisters’ disappointment, no.” He kept pace with me, watching the trees around us. Soon we came to the part where the mist crept along the bases of the trees.

  “Peculiar,” he said, looking up.

  “What is?” I looked up but only saw the same wild, tangled vegetation I always did.

  “The vines in the trees appear to be moving,” he murmured, tilting his head to watch. “I heard the ones near the wall move as if alive, but this far from it? I wonder...”

  I knew they moved, but said nothing, not wanting to explain how I knew. The night that Tennen had almost caught me still filled my dreams with running through the darkness.

  “The place I usually visit is just ahead. The last time it offered peapods in such abundance I almost cried for not having my bag with me.”

  “Odd of you to leave without it,” he said, focusing on me again.

  Inwardly cursing my slip, I smiled sheepishly and shrugged. The mists thickened the further we went toward the estate until we only saw the immediate area around us. I wondered at the unusually menacing feel of it.

  “Perhaps we should head back,” I whispered, stopping abruptly to study the mist around us.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he returned just as softly. “I kept quiet, trusting your expert guidance, but the feel of this place—”

  I spun toward him and saw vines wrapping around his waist. His eyes were wide with shock.

  “Father!” I flew toward him, tugging at the vines, but they didn’t budge. More crept toward him, starting a slow familiar shuffle I knew would pull him into the estate. He read the fear on my face and tried to reassure me.

  “Stay here, Benella. I’ll return soon. This is only my first offense.”

  I kept pace with him, but the vines tugged him up into the treetops and out of my sight.

  “Don’t follow me,” he called in warning. “You’ve trespassed too many times already.”

  Ignoring his warning, I spun and ran blindly toward the gate. Panting, I arrived to hear it creak open, barely able to make out the mist shrouded bars before me.

  “Please,” I begged. “My father didn’t mean to trespass; he was only following me.”

  A growl started in the dark mist to my right, and I knew the beast waited for me.

  “You refused me?”

  Concerned about my father, I frowned in confusion before I realized what he meant. The trunk. I played as if I didn’t understand. If the beast continued talking to me, he wouldn’t be able to toss my father over the wall.

  “If I recall, I did not refuse your last request of me. I still have the shirt to prove it,” I answered, still slightly out of breath.

  “The trunk,” he said.

  “The trunk someone left for my sister, Blye? What of it?”

  “The offer was meant for you,” he said in a deceptively soft growl that unnerved me.

  His direct answer surprised me.

  “Me? Why would I need all that cloth? I don’t sew. Blye does.”

  “You wanted a shirt. I offered the means to own several shirts.”

  I didn’t know what to say except, “Why? Why did you offer for me?”

  “You need not concern yourself with that,” he growled his frustration. “Will you assent?”

  “I cannot.”

  Birds in nearby trees screamed in protest at his rage filled roar and took flight in a rush of a dozen flapping wings.

  “Only a few days ago you lay on the ground, telling me you cared not whether you lived or died. Holding so little value to your life, why not agree to my offer?”

  With effort, I kept my voice soft and even to hide my fear.

  “Value is an odd thing, subject to whim. What one might find value in, another might not; what has value today might not have value tomorrow, depending on the wants and needs of the evaluating individual. You prove this yourself with the same example you just provided. Several days ago when I lay on the ground indifferent to what fate might decide, you were not so interested i
n me. The issue is that neither of us understands the reason why we changed our minds.”

  He remained silent, perhaps thinking I had more to say on the matter. I didn’t want to push him any further though, so I let what I said linger in the quiet for a while before speaking again.

  “My father?”

  “Is unharmed,” he spoke softly just behind me. My stomach twitched in surprise, but I managed to quell any other reaction to his unexpected nearness.

  “May I have him back, please?”

  Gently, he touched the back of my head, a single stroke of my hair from crown to the tip of my braid, which ended mid-back. He lifted the braid and tugged on it slightly. I held still before him, listening to my great gusting breaths as I remembered the last time he’d touched me when I’d thought him a pile of furs.

  “I will return him to you whole and healthy in hopes that you may yet change your answer, Benella,” he said as his fingers threaded through my hair, loosening the braid.

  As soon as my hair fell free, he disappeared.

  After a few moments, I heard the rustling of leaves above, and the mists lifted enough that I spotted Father trussed up in the vines high above. As soon as he spotted me, he went from looking intrigued to looking worried.

  “Go, child!” he called in an urgent hush. The vines began their stretching descent to bring him to the ground. “I just heard the beast’s roar and know he must be near waiting for me. You shouldn’t have come inside the wall.”

  I remained despite his urging to flee. When his feet touched the ground, the vines loosened and then shrank away.

  “What an amazing journey,” he said, watching them for a moment before remembering where we were and the imminent threat of the beast.

  “This way,” I motioned him to follow before he could say anything. We walked through the gate, which slammed closed behind us with a metallic clang.

  * * * *

  For the next several days, I stayed away from the estate, not out of fear, but because Father forbade me to return. I struggled to find anything in the area outside of the estate’s boundaries. Though the fish were plentiful, I knew Bryn and Blye grew tired of them. Bryn tried cajoling me into another trip to the baker; but with nothing to trade and her unwillingness to part with a coin, I left her angry while I went to fish.