“That is good, for I have much to say to you.”
Truth. Helen waited, confused at this intrusion.
“You are patient, I see.” The woman tilted her head, much like Luke did when he was curious, only her gaze felt more probing. “It is learned behavior. In many ways that is good, for if you have learned it, then you see the value in it. So many do not, of course. Mankind has one constant; its unfailing ability to be impatient.”
Helen waited, still unsure what to say to this mysterious woman in grey.
“It is more important than ever that I’ve come, then, for the patient take the inevitable conclusion that much harder.” She sighed, and again, Helen waited, her body tensing.
The woman’s eyes bored deeper. “You will fail.”
Helen jumped yet again. “I…will fail?”
“You cannot lift this curse, my child. You will fail.”
Helen felt the lumpy emotion of a half-truth and frowned. “But you cannot know the future. I may yet succeed.”
The woman laughed a dry crumbly laugh and Helen shivered. “I know this; the curse was designed to never be broken. The duke has been a monster for hundreds of years and will continue to be so for millennia and even into the eternities.”
Helen felt the truth, and with it her heart grew heavy. “There must be something.” She whispered to herself.
“There is nothing.”
The lie soured in her mouth and she looked up sharply. “That is a lie.”
The woman met her gaze again. “What?” She reached out and took Helen’s chin in her hand to look further into her eyes. She felt the gaze fill her and then slowly pull back like a piece of chewing gum. “A truth seer. I had forgotten the small magics that have sprouted. They are ridiculous.” She let go of Helen’s chin and stood.
Helen rubbed her chin, tears inexplicably coming. “But it was a lie. There is a counter curse.”
The woman abruptly lashed out. “Of course there’s a counter curse, young one. The ancient laws of magic require it. They do not require anything more.”
“But then it’s possible!” She raised her voice as the woman started to walk away.
She turned to face her. “Of course it’s possible. But probable? No.” Whirling around, she disappeared as if she’d never been there in the first place.
Helen waited for the sour taste, but it never came. She waited for the lumps, but they never came. It was some time before she admitted to herself what her heart already knew; the woman had spoken the truth.
***
Shaken from her encounter, Helen was distracted the rest of the day. Luke had eventually joined her and she knew his presence meant he was trying to repair the damage from last night, but her confidence was gone. She went through the rest of her day in a haze, their silent companionship born of more than regret.
Dinner came; she sipped her soup, the taste lost on her as she reviewed her strange conversation yet again.
“You seem distracted this evening.” Luke sat to her right, sipping from a mixing bowl with both paws. “Either that, or you are particularly fond of this soup.”
She smiled. “I am distracted.”
“I hope…I hope you will forgive me. I did not mean to scare you or to hurt you in any way.”
“I know, and you do not need to worry, I’m alright.” She hesitated, then added, “Luke, do you know a woman with silver hair and a dress to match?”
He set his bowl down, the table shaking in response. “It was not black?”
“What?”
“The hair or the dress?”
“No, both were a silvery grey.”
“Where did you meet her?”
“In the blue garden. It was a very pointed conversation, yet I didn’t even know who she was.” She proceeded to tell him of the odd exchange.
“No one that would know of the curse and be able to do the things she did except for one.”
“Who?”
“Lady Catherine Bromwell.”
“Who is she?”
“The witch who cursed me.”
“I did not realize!” She stared at the table, her thoughts swirling. “And that is the woman you spurned.” Awed, she looked over to see him watching her. Smiling, she put her hand on his paw. “I missed you, Luke.”
He huffed, then watched as her hair settled back down. “I missed you too.”
“Even when you’re angry, promise you won’t stay away?”
“Very well.”
She smiled and turned back to her soup.
“What else did you do today?”
She grinned. “I pouted in my room all day.”
He huffed once more, and she wondered if it was on purpose so he could see her hair swirl about. “No you didn’t.”
“Well if you already know everything I did, why did you ask?”
“Because I thought we were back to being friends, and it was a normal question you would ask.”
Helen smiled. “We were always friends, Luke. You were just being stubborn, you great bear.”
“Lion.”
“Cat, then, but you know, you’re not entirely lion.”
“But not a bear.”
She smiled and he shook his mane. “It’s nice to have you back, Luke.”
***
When Luke told her he could not come to the gardens that day, Helen knew. As she walked, her feet moving down the familiar path to the blue garden, she knew. Sitting on the bench alone, she still knew. And so she waited, quietly, not able to enjoy the day until the inevitable occurred.
Abruptly, there she was, the woman in her storm-colored dress, standing before her.
“Lady Catherine.”
The woman smiled, but did not accept the name. “I see you are still here and still determined in your quiet patient way that I so admire.”
The half-truth was there, lumpy as usual, but Helen knew the witch was more frustrated than full of admiration, and she sat up straighter to face this confrontation.
“Perhaps if I told you of Genevieve.”
Helen’s gaze fell, the name bringing up too many questions to refuse, and the woman gave a brittle laugh.
“I warrant you have heard much of her already. Have you seen her portrait?”
Helen shook her head. “There is no way of knowing which portrait goes with which name.”
“Her hair was like raw gold. Her eyes were a warm brown, that shone when she looked at Luke as if he consumed her heart with his.” She had been glaring at a clump of lupines, but now turned her gaze back to Helen. “I have never been jealous of another woman’s beauty except when I met her.”
Truth. “As you’ve said before, it was hundreds of years ago…” Helen trailed off, for despite her protests, it was obvious Luke still remembered his Genevieve very well.
“You are lying to yourself if you don’t think he still loves her. Your frail hope lies in the unbreakable counter curse. And of course, as you have guessed by now, it is about true love. However much he may wish to end this curse, and however much you think you may come to care for each other, it will never be enough. Never. Because he will never have Genevieve. And that is why it is unbreakable.” With an icy grin, she turned to walk away.
Helen stood, heat flooding her as she spoke. “You’re wrong.”
Lady Catherine spun around, her mocking look throwing sparks. “I am not wrong, as your pathetic gift has told you over and over again, you miserable wart.”
Helen clenched her fists. “Yes, but there’s something. I can feel it in my bones, and you,” she moved forward, “You being here only confirms it. You’re scared that I’ll succeed.”
Lady Catherine matched her stance, her gaze unflinching. “It is you who are wrong, child. As I’ve said before, there is no hope, there is no way, and there is no one but the lost Genevieve who could have broken this curse.” She whirled around, disappearing before Helen could think of anything else to say.
Her mouth set, she stood up and walked to the house
, not stopping as she usually did to talk to the gardener or admire the newest blooms. She walked faster now, past a servant she also ignored and straight into the portrait hall.
Stopping suddenly, she caught her breath. Carefully, she closed the door behind her, wishing she could lock it. Her eyes steady, she moved from one portrait to the next, moving forward in time. There at the fourth painting, just as Lady Catherine had described her, was Genevieve. Her hair was glorious, her eyes just as warm as remembered, her skin glowing and her smile… She could forgive her for being beautiful, but her smile was kind, sympathetic even, as if she knew of Helen’s impossible position. She stepped back and sighed. The door opened and she recognized his familiar shuffle.
“What are you doing here, Helen?” His husky voice was soft, but she didn’t respond, knowing he would understand in a moment. He looked up at the portrait of Genevieve.
“Why her?”
Helen turned at last to face him. “Lady Catherine told me your love for each other makes it impossible for me or anyone else to break the curse.”
“And why is that?”
“She said true love is part of the counter curse, which I had guessed, of course, but did not know…” Her hands were wringing, moving and curling around each other.
“What did you not know?”
“I have heard her name mentioned, but I did not know that your love for her was still strong.”
He watched her hands as they slowly stilled, dropping to her sides. “I see. And so you came to see her for yourself?”
She turned back to the portrait. “Yes. It is silly, but I had to know if she really was as beautiful as she said.”
“And what did you decide?”
She threw a wry smile at the portrait. “I see why you prefer light hair.” Her mouth straightened. “But I had hoped to come up with a solution for you. Perhaps a way to find her and reunite you, but each idea seems more ridiculous than the last, and I am at a loss.”
She turned to find him close, his hazel eyes level with her own, reflecting a depth of sadness that startled her.
“Perhaps you can tell me what I can do.”
“My dearest Helen, it seems you are mistaken about a great many things.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Come. Let’s find a place to talk that isn’t so crowded.”
She looked up at the portraits. “Do you think they’re listening?”
“Do you see the third one down from Genevieve’s?”
“Yes, the woman in black with…that is Lady Catherine!”
“Yes. I find that one particularly disturbing and never stand near it if at all possible. Let’s have this conversation elsewhere.”
They made their way across the foyer and down the hall, her hand on his back out of habit while he moved slower to accommodate it. He stopped in front of the den, and pushed open the battered doors.
“Come in, dear heart, and I will tell you my story. Like yours, I have a part in them, only in this case, a much larger role.” Helen opened her mouth to protest but he gave a soft growl. “I am not an idiot, Helen, and I know you better than you know.”
She stood still, feeling vulnerable. “I had hoped to hide myself a little more from you, although I could not say why.”
“It is hard to let so much of yourself go. That is something I can appreciate.”
She took a seat on the grey couch, Luke crouched at her feet. Laying her hand on his head, she said, “Tell me your story, Luke.”
“A long time ago, I loved Genevieve very much, that is true. I spurned Lady Catherine for her, and as a result, she cursed me to what you see me as now. I spent my first few years having a temper tantrum. The weather, as I’m sure the servants have told you, was a horror. It was many months before I realized it was tied to my temperament, and I took greater care from then on, for I hated being cooped up, and realized how unfair it was for my staff who seemed cursed in the caring for me for my internment.
I became obsessed with the counter curse. I spent hours studying and called in witches and all manner of men to help me, but to no avail. One day, an old witch spat on my floor, called me a fool, and then told me something useful. She said it was apparent the counter curse had something to do with love, which is obvious, but she further said it could only be broken by my one true love. She left before I could question her further, but for the first time I began to hope. True love seemed to me an easy thing, for hadn’t I fallen in love twice in a seemingly short time?
I wanted to find Genevieve immediately, of course, but I did not know where to find her, and had no way of leaving my estate given my…form. The servants can, and would often go to town and when they were there, would ask about the Lady Genevieve and where she might have gone. There was no luck for awhile, and I began to be impatient.” He growled then, a deep growl that made her shudder.
“Your servants had no news of her?”
“Hints, but nothing more. In fact, that is why I have so few servants left. Many have chosen to live their eternity elsewhere rather than spend it in service. I cannot fault them for doing what I have so often wished for myself.”
She said nothing as she absorbed this information, and realized that the entire castle was run on the handful of servants she now recognized. “If they had all left, then…”
“I would be a wild beast by now, driven mad by solitude and surviving by instinct. Those who stayed have saved me, and I selfishly let them.”
Helen lowered her gaze to hide her pity.
“I decided to start inviting women to my estate. The first ran before I could speak, and I know nothing of her except her name. The second was more prepared. I had my servants tell her of the curse, of my condition and how they guessed it could be reversed. I had them explain I was a wealthy duke. She nodded and understood and even said she would try, but when she saw me she fainted and when she came to, she requested that she be allowed to leave immediately.”
Here he rubbed his ear with his paw, an itch that took a cat’s moment, and Helen stayed quiet, her feet now comfortably tucked under her.
“Genevieve showed up on my doorstep a month later. I cannot express the joy in my heart at seeing her there. My prayers were answered, my soul saved, for here was my true love come to break the curse. I did not know then that Lady Catherine had found her with the purpose of sinking me into despair. I’m not sure she ever knew how well it worked.”
He paused for so long that it seemed he would not speak again, so lost was he in thought.
“If you prefer not to speak of it, I understand.” Helen moved to rise and he stopped her with a look in his eye as he raised his head.
“I would tell you, only it is hard. Please be patient.”
“Of course I will.” She sat back down and he began again.
“You realize you are interrupting me as much as I ever have you.”
She smiled and he sighed, his breath dancing past her hair.
“I can only guess at her emotions from what occurred, but I assume she was still horrified at the sight of me, and even sad at the thought that I was well and truly lost. She had, in fact, become engaged a short while previously, and was happy in the arrangement. I was so devastated by this loss, that I made a storm that kept her here for weeks. Each time I approached her, she insisted she was happy. No matter my argument, she swore she was content. I remember asking her, ‘What if I stood before you as I was before? Could you say no then?’ She shook her head and said, ‘Too much has happened, and now time has passed.’
And then one day she told me we needed to talk of Lady Catherine. That she wanted to talk at all, about anything…the storm ended immediately. We went outside and walked to the…to the blue garden. I remember she was shivering even with the coat she had on, and yet it was warm…”
Here he stood up and walked to the door, then turning to walk back as he settled into a pace.
“She began I don’t know how many times. She mentioned Lady Catherine and that she coul
dn’t do ‘it’ anymore, whatever that meant. She was scared and upset and told me the truth was that she still loved…” Here he stopped. “Catherine had blackmailed her, swearing she would end my life and the lives of those she loved if she –”
“She still loved you!”
He blew out hot air as he stopped in front of her. His eyes were angry now, full of the predator, and with her own eyes wide, she scooted back a little, shocked to find herself nervous.
“Yes. She did. She was not permitted to say it, however, for Lady Catherine came upon us and cursed her, dooming me to my eternity as a monster. I had no idea what had become of her until…Helen.” At her name, his voice got softer, although his eyes were still hard. “Helen. Your stories are real, aren’t they?”
“They…yes, they are.”
“What was the name of the girl Sir Paxton awoke?”
Helen took a breath. “I had wondered, but it had seemed too much of a coincidence.” She looked down, not able to face him as she whispered. “Genevieve.”
He growled, his hot breath encasing her, then sat back on his haunches. “There are no such things as coincidences, Helen.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to bring you pain.”
His eyes were quieter now, the humanity plainly visible. A knock was heard at the door, and Helen jumped at the interruption. She moved to the door to open it, and there she found Ben and Nate carrying loaded platters for a luncheon. Her smile short, she moved out of the way so they could arrange it on the small table they pulled from the corner. They left with curious bows and elbow nudges while Helen sat and began to fill her plate.
“There is a loaf of stuffed bread here for you, Luke. Would you like me to bring it to you?” Her voice never wavered, but her hand shook as she poured herself a glass of water.
“I am perfectly able to walk on all fours to come and get it myself.”
“I know that, only sometimes it is nice to have others do things for you.” She walked over, the loaf warm and heavy on the platter and set it before him. He didn’t move, so she sat down next to it.
“Would you rather finish your story first?”
“I would.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I will bring my plate and sit next to you.” By the time she sat next to him, her hands no longer shook.
The Unbreakable Curse: A Beauty & the Beast Retelling Page 14
