“Oh Papa, I forgot which way is which.”
Feeling awake and unused to so much sleep, Helen shuffled unsteadily towards the door, stopping as she passed a table with the promised hazelnut tart. Her stomach responded immediately and she sat, each bite bringing a happy sigh. She finished, but immediately her stomach rejected it into the pot designated for such bodily functions. Sighing, she found a glass next to her bed, taking pleasure in pouring herself a full glass of clear clean water. The bed beckoned, but her eyes caught on the door. Was she allowed to leave? No one had said otherwise.
Carefully picking her way once more to the door, she tried the handle; it was unlocked. She waited for a moment, her head debating the wisdom of this adventure, but the salve had already done wonders with her pain, and her curiosity was too great to sit in her room waiting for the day. Pulling it open, she peeked into the hallway, her ears stretching to hear any obstacle to her outing, but all was still and dark. She stepped out, pulling the door shut behind her and shivered in the chilly hallway. She looked back; she could return to her warm bed instead of entertaining this foolish desire to wander around a castle.
The clock chimed. “One…two…three o’clock. I must be mad.”
“Why is that?”
The voice rumbled, and she squeaked.
“I did not mean to startle you; I thought you could see me here.”
She peered more closely into the shadows on her left and noticed there was a distinctive darker patch. “You…you blend into the shadows very well.”
“What do you need?”
She swallowed, her head clinging to the question. “I…occupation, I suppose. I am not used to so much sleep.”
No reply came, and for a moment and she wondered if it was all a dream and she would wake up to find Charger over her ready to rip her throat out. She put her hand to her neck in an all too familiar habit.
“There is a library.”
Her hand dropped as she softly replied, “I would love to see your library.”
“If you will accept my help, I will walk with you there.” He peeled himself out of the darkness, and she froze, all thoughts vanished in the face this living nightmare.
“I made you a promise, Helen.”
Truth. She took a deep breath. “I know. Please give me a moment.” She swallowed once, then twice, then lifted her chin, “I…where should I…”
“Here.”
She couldn’t see much more than a black mass, but his musky animal smell was very close.
“It is my shoulder. You can lean as much as you’d like and I will not let you fall.”
“I…it’s not….that is…” She took another bracing breath as she mumbled, “I truly am mad,” but then gently laid her hand on his shoulder. Together they moved forward one step at a time. Fear slowly eased, and gradually, she trusted his path.
“Is it lonely?” Her curiosity whispered out.
“What?”
“Is it lonely to live here alone with everyone…scared of you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I have the servants to remind me of who I am, and I have my memories to remind me of who I was.”
“Memories of…who you were?”
“Once, a long time ago, I was a man.”
She waited four, then five steps until she had the confidence to ask, “Would you tell me your story?”
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“No.” Her fingers clutched at the thick fur and she whispered, “Yes.”
“Once upon a time, then. There was a boy who thought he was a man. One day he met a woman. She was so beautiful, she glittered when she smiled, and this boy with the audacity of youth was sure he was in love. He was warned by a friend that she was not all she seemed, but he didn’t care. She was vivacious and daring and unpredicatable, the exact traits to attract a bold young man who was too sure of himself. He declared his love promising that one day he would marry her and make her his bride. He was brash and heedless of other’s counsel.”
His fur bristled as he growled, and Helen stepped back, her fears back in full force. She felt his hot breath on her face and began shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you cold or are you terrified?”
“I…I’m sorry, I thought you were…”
“Helen. I have resented and hated and now loath what I once was. I think even less of what I am now. Any anger is always directed toward myself. And as I have said before, you never have to worry about your well-being while you are here.”
Truth. She slowly nodded as her shaking stilled.
“My shoulder is here.” He had moved back next to her, patiently waiting for her to put her hand back in its place. Once again they moved forward, each step regaining the fleeting confidence.
Her hand gripped his fur and she tried once more. “How did your story end?”
“Sometimes it feels as if it never happened. As if I have always been what I am now. It is hard not to scoff at the boy I once was.”
Despair thickened the air, and pity began to replace fear.
“One day he was reintroduced to an old friend, and soon they were laughing over shared memories from their childhood. Their friendship grew until one day he realized the depth of his devotion to her. It shocked him how it had crept up silent and devious rather than the plunging effect of the first lady. He found himself in love, now with the knowledge of how wrong he’d been. His first love now seemed a passing whim, a boyish lust that had flattered his ego and fulfilled his momentary desires. Now he felt the maturity of truly caring for another. He finally gathered the courage to confront his dark beauty and tell her of his change in heart. She laughed at him and told him he was only a boy, that his boyish desires would fade and he would once again come back to her, that their love was real and true and would outlast any momentary distractions. When her prediction failed, she cursed him into a great and terrible beast.”
There was a thud as a door was pushed open wide.
“This is the library.”
“It is a sad ending.”
“I was cursed for the folly of my youth. It is the only ending I am allowed.”
“Thank you for sharing your story.” Her steps were still slow, her legs now weakened from her nighttime foray.
“It is nothing.”
“It is something to me.” She was surprised to find she meant it, and even more surprised to find that her fear had vanished. A window seat awaited her, and she climbed in, immediately distracted by the night sky.
A scritch-scratch was followed by a light; a fireplace had been lit. Shadows danced about the room as his footsteps padded back to her side. “Helen.”
She looked into the inky darkness where he shone in and out with the whim of the fire.
“There is a saying. ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’”
“I think I understand.”
***
“Good morning Helen, did you sleep well?” Stella pulled back the curtains and turned to look at the bed, but no one was there. She gasped and looked about for her. “Helen? Helen! Oh drat, one lousy day.”
“Did you check the window sills?” Susan ran in and looked about.
“Yes, just. Both empty.”
Stella ran from the room as Susan frowned and started making the bed, her head shaking as she mumbled. “I knew he shouldn’t’ve showed himself.” She stomped her foot. “Oh, dragon’s dung. Now we’ll have a week of rain.”
Stella slowed as she came to the den. Once upon a time it had been a study, but too many years and too much shedding had nicknamed the room more appropriately. She stood before the door, knowing he could smell her presence but feeling a coward with her news. She gave a quick rap before quietly opening the door to walk in.
“Your Grace, I’m sorry, I…have to report that Hel – the girl is gone.” Stella put her head down, frustrated that she could still get disappointed. “I’m sorry, I thought this one would stay, at least for a while.�
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“She’s in the library.” He was looking out a bay window that reached to the ceiling as he watched the sun finish rising.
Stella’s head lifted. “Oh that’s…how did she get there?”
“I helped her walk.”
Stella’s jaw dropped. “Are…really?”
He turned, “Please serve breakfast in the library, as I believe another trip is not wise until she’s eaten and regained some strength.” He turned back to look outside, silently dismissing her, his thoughts consumed by the sun.
“Your Grace.” She nodded and left, running, then skipping down the hall. She met Susan coming out of Helen’s room. “She didn’t leave!” She kept going at her childish pace.
“What?”
“She’s in the liiiiibrary!” Stella sang and Susan laughed as she walked into the library. The room was gigantic, taking two floors in height and multiple rooms in width. But Helen was easily visible lying across a windowsill with pillows piled high behind her head.
“Oh miss, you all gave us quite a fright this morning when we couldn’t find you.”
Helen wasn’t going to answer, however, for on closer inspection, it was clear she was fast asleep. Susan smiled, and tucked the blanket already there back up around her shoulders. She turned toward the fireplace, but a steady fire was already waving. At the other end of the library she found that fireplace too was well-lit. She looked back at Helen, then at the fireplace in front of her.
“Oh is she asleep?” Stella walked in with a cart full of breakfast, and wheeled it towards a small table.
“Yes….do you think she lit the fireplaces herself? I wish she would have called someone, for that can’t have been easy in her condition.”
“No, the master did.”
“How do you know?” Susan reached over to help her lay down a cloth for the impromptu breakfast table.
“He said he walked her here!” Stella grinned then handed her the platter of scrambled eggs.
“And so he probably lit the fires…”
“I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it. Perhaps this time?” Stella smiled and looked over at Helen.
Susan frowned. “No one is ever going to break the curse, Stella, you know that.”
“But – ”
“No, don’t even talk that way. No use getting our hopes up for something that was never going to happen anyways.” Susan placed the pot of tea on the table, then left.
Stella frowned at the teapot, then looked over at Helen. “Oh Helen, we can’t help our hopes.” She sighed and left for other chores.
***
Days ran by, and soon a week departed. Physical ailments healed while shadowed dinners haunted her dreams. A pattern of waking at witching hours continued and she woke each morning in her window seat to find a table laden with food which she ate more and more of.
One morning, Stella found her looking out the window, her breakfast forgotten.
“Helen, are you alright?” She stopped to face her, one hand on her hip.
Helen turned back to her eggs and twirled her fork through them. “This place…it has a lightness. As if…it is scrubbing the past few years away from me. I feel young again.” She looked out the window, the sunlight beginning to frame her hint of a smile.
Stella protested, “Oh but miss, you are young.”
“Only in body.” She turned back to savor her food, swallowing each bite before deciding on another. She reached for the glass of water, ignoring the tea Stella had pointedly set before her.
Stella watched, her hands clearing the dishes. “Why is it, Helen, that you never drink the tea?”
Helen looked at Stella, then back at her glass. “I think I might never drink anything but water ever again.” She looked up to see Stella frowning.
“There must be a story about that, miss, because you don’t seem the kind to do something crazy-like for no good reason.”
Helen gave a rare chuckle, her eyes crinkling from the effort. “I’m not sure we’re not all a little crazy-like at times, Stella.” She paused to take another drink, her fingers tapping the side of the glass as she thought. “There is a story though.”
“I knew it!” Stella sat in the chair next to Helen and propped her head in her hand. “We’re all just dying to know everything that happened to you, miss, but all too polite to ask, if you’ll beg my pardon.”
Helen’s smile was distant, her look much too experienced. “Before I came here, I lived, or rather…survived at a place where there were no second chances. If I dropped the laundry in the dirt, I was punished,” she stumbled and then regained her words, “and then made to redo the laundry again. One day the mistress of the house saw a dead mouse in the kitchen. I was still too new and too…inexperienced to know better and when she asked me to take it out, I may have told her what I thought of her.”
Stella grinned. “Excellent.”
Helen shook her head, her face white. “No, it was stupid. I was beaten, and later when I made another mistake, the master did not want me dead, so he had her only give me dirty water to drink.”
Stella sat back. “That’s disgusting!”
Helen shivered. “I hadn’t had a clean drink of water for more than two and a half years until I came here, but I am very good at ironing laundry when made to do it.”
Stella moved to put her arm around her. “Well, you can have as much water as you’d like here. I’m sorry we – Helen, what’s the matter?”
Helen had moved, pushing Stella away, her arms tightly wound about herself. “I’m sorry Stella, I know you mean well, but I can’t…I’m not ready to...”
Stella watched her, an unfamiliar crease in her own forehead. Turning, she took the blanket from the windowsill. “How about this then.” Wrapping the blanket around Helen’s shoulders stopped the shaking, and soon she fell asleep once more, memories banished in the comfort of wool.
***
One night the swollen moon beckoned, and Helen decided to explore. It was slow going, but she enjoyed the work that she knew would bring strength back to her body. Room after room was peeked into as she leaned in each doorway, too tired to enter, but too exhilarated to stop.
“You are getting better.”
She closed her eyes and reminded herself what he kept telling her every night since her arrival; she was safe. Turning, she addressed the blackest part of the shadows. “I am a little tired, and I’ve wandered a little too far from my room.”
“Do you need help?”
Helen stiffened, his scent reminding her of his proximity.
“Here is my shoulder.” He leaned forward, and shaking her head, she once more placed her hand where directed.
“Thank you for your help.”
“You are welcome.”
Their walk was quiet but easy, and soon Helen was climbing back into her bed. She bit her lip.
“You have a question.”
“I…yes. Why are some of the rooms abandoned?”
“You mean those with sheets covering the furniture.”
“Yes.”
“There is no one here but me and the servants, and now you. There is no use for them.”
“Once upon a time there must have been a great many people to require so many rooms.”
“Yes, once upon a time there were.”
Questions filled her head, but instead she quietly thanked him once more, then turned to fall asleep.
***
More nights passed as her dark monster grew familiar. Once again the moon showed its face so brightly that Helen put down her book, distracted by its light.
“What are you reading?”
Helen jumped.
“I beg your pardon.”
Helen turned to find the beast outlined by the moon, his large body just barely out of reach. “How…how long have you been there?”
“Not long.”
“Oh.” She searched for something to say or do, when she realized he’d asked her a question. “This is a book about adventure
rs.” She held up the book. “I suppose I’m not feeling very adventurous though, because I cannot seem to continue reading it.”
“What do you want to read?”
“I don’t know. I think…well, that is…” She paused, then decided lack of sleep had made her daring. “I’m curious.”
“Curious?”
“About this place.”
“What is it you are curious about?”
She eyed a scrap of paper acting as her bookmark. “When I picked up this book, there was a small torn piece of paper with the name Porsha on it. It made me wonder if she lived her once upon a time.”
He snorted, his breath a reminder of his proximity. “Yes. Once upon a time.”
She stared at this big black beast all silvery grey in the moonlight and mustered the courage to ask, “Would you mind telling me her story?”
He grunted, releasing a puff of air, and she held her breath. “Once, a long time ago, there was a woman who heard of an enchanted beast in a castle.
Helen relaxed, the story begging questions instead of fear. “Did she hear of it, or was she invited?”
He huffed. “In this case she heard of it.”
“I’m sorry.” Helen sat back, worried she had offended him, but he did nothing but continue.
“This woman had red hair. It was so bright you couldn’t call it anything else but red. She had green eyes, and she was as curious as…”
Helen whispered. “A cat?”
Another huff. “She was curious. Much more so than you will ever be. She was so curious, that she wasn’t scared of the beast so much as awed. When she first saw him, she questioned him thoroughly on his curse and decided she would end it, just like that.”
Eyebrows raised, Helen was thrown by his easy mention of breaking his curse. She had wondered, of course, but the fact that someone had tried to end the curse already and hadn’t succeeded puzzled her. Her questions grew, but she bit her lip and waited.
“She followed me around almost constantly, curious about how I slept, how I changed the weather. The staff took to hiding, because she questioned them so constantly about the counter-curse. Even I…”
Helen raised her head when he stopped. “What happened?”
“I began to avoid her. She was like a pest, she was so persistent. Eventually she decided to swear her undying love, sure that was the answer. She knelt before me, but before her words even finished passing her mouth, the witch who cursed me was laughing in my ear. I knew this time it was my own fault that I was still cursed and would remain a beast.”
The Unbreakable Curse: A Beauty & the Beast Retelling Page 3
