“I am so pleased to meet you at last, Nanny,” he said as she wrinkled her nose at him as if there were a foul smell about the air.
“Yes, yes, very pleased to meet you, Prince, I’m sure. But won’t you please show us to our rooms so I can get this girl into a hot bath?” Cogsworth took things into order.
“If you will follow me, Princess, I will happily show you to your quarters so you may freshen yourself after your long journey.”
And with that he took the ladies up the stairs and out of sight.
Well, the Prince thought, this visit will be interesting with Nanny grumbling about. Perhaps he could get Mrs. Potts to divert her in the kitchens so he could have some time alone with his princess. He couldn’t imagine what the week would be like with her around. His dread was squashed with the announcement of his other guest.
The Maestro!
He came promenading in with the dandiest of outfits—all velvet and lace in various shades of lilacs and blackberry. He had large sad eyes set into a slightly swollen face but seemed all the more handsome for it.
The Maestro looked as if he had a saucy story to share, and the Prince wondered if it would be unwise to seat Nanny and the Maestro at the same table that evening for dinner. His head spun at the thought of Nanny listening to the painter’s outlandish stories. What he needed was Cogsworth. He would sort it all out.
And sort it out he did. Nanny dined with Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, and the other staff downstairs at Mrs. Potts’s invitation. It wasn’t custom by any means for a guest to eat with the downstairs staff, but Mrs. Potts had a way with people, and by the end of the conversation, the two were swapping stories about the Prince and princess when they were young, determining which of them had been more insolent.
Meanwhile, dinner upstairs was delightfully charming. The servants had decorated the dining room splendidly. Rather than a large floral centerpiece, there were a number of smaller arrangements artfully placed on the table, evoking the feel of a garden infused with candlelight. There were many crystal bowls with floating flowers and candles, and the particular cut of crystal made an interesting use of the light, causing a fanciful effect of reflection on the walls and diners. It was quite beautiful. But not as beautiful as his darling love, the Prince thought. The Maestro broke the silence.
“To love in all its tantalizing and vexing forms!”
Tulip laughed behind her fan while the Maestro stood theatrically erect with his glass raised high in the air, waiting, it seemed, for someone to respond to his toast. The Prince feared the Maestro might stay there forever frozen in time like one of his paintings if he didn’t say something quickly.
“Yes! To love,” he said, and quickly added, “and to you, Maestro!”
Princess Tulip giggled again, warming the Prince’s heart even more. He loved how sweet and demure she was, so content to sit idly, and always looking ravishing while doing so. He really couldn’t have chosen a better maiden to be his bride.
“I couldn’t be more pleased to have you, Maestro! I know you will capture the moment perfectly! We will look back on our engagement not only with fond memories but with…How was it you put it? Oh yes, our senses will instantly be assaulted with a profound and visceral recollection of that exact moment in time.”
The Maestro looked pleased. “I’m honored you remembered my words so vividly!” He then turned his attentions to the young lady, hoping to bring about something of her personality.
“You must be brimming with utter excitement, Princess, are you not?” The princess’s eyes widened with wonder. She hardly knew what to say. “Oh yes, I am. I am very much looking forward to the wedding.”
“Of course you are! But I was of course speaking of our painting! I will want to see an assortment of outfits from each of you for my approval, and we will need to discuss the topic of location. The rose garden seems like an enchanting setting, I would think! Yes, the rose garden it shall be! I have decided and there is no changing my mind!” He continued, “It seems every portrait that is painted with any real feeling is a portrait of the artist, and not of the sitter. I daresay you will both be magnificent!”
Tulip blinked more than a few times, trying to understand his meaning.
“Will you be in the portrait with us, Maestro?” she asked. Both gentlemen laughed.
Princess Tulip Morningstar didn’t know if they were laughing at what she had said because it was clever or dull witted, but she decided to act as though it had been the cleverest thing she could possibly have said, and hoped the topic would change to something she needn’t partake in. The Maestro, seeing the dread in her face, added, “Don’t fret, dear Tulip. I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”
To this the princess could reply only by saying, “Oh!” and then giggling some more, which seemed to please everyone, because they joined in her laughter.
The next morning the magnificent trio was found in the rose garden as the Maestro sketched and the lovers did their best to hold their poses without giving the master painter cause to become cross with them.
“Prince, please! This is supposed to be the happiest moment of your life and your face looks like you’ve been eating something sour! Why do you look so displeased? What could you possibly be thinking of that causes one’s face to contort so?”
The Prince had in fact been thinking about the last time he was in the rose garden, the night he parted with Circe. The events had become blurred in his mind and he was trying hard to make sense of it all. Surely Circe had brought along her wicked sisters and they had proclaimed he was cursed for his misdeeds. He was certain he hadn’t imagined it, but the curse itself, that was balderdash…wasn’t it? Sometimes he couldn’t help fearing it might be true.
The Prince was brought out of his thoughts by Cogsworth’s voice.
“Lunch is served.”
The Maestro slammed down his drawing coals, cracking them into tiny powdery bits. “Very well! I think I prefer to lunch in my room! Alone!” he huffed, and he stormed away, not uttering a single word of salutation to either of the happy couple. Rather than giggling, as we well know was Tulip’s way, she wilted into a heap of tears at being scolded.
The Prince, it seemed, had his hands entirely full with the fitful Maestro, his weeping Tulip, and her sour nanny. How would the rest of the week go?
The next day Princess Tulip Morningstar and the Prince shared a very quiet breakfast together in the morning room. She didn’t ask the Prince where he had been the night before, or why he had missed dinner. She had been forced to dine with the Maestro by herself and was mortified when he inquired where the Prince might have been and she couldn’t answer. She wanted to rail on him, honestly. Inwardly she was seething, but Nanny warned her never to let her anger show. It wasn’t ladylike to appear upset. Nanny said that far too often a woman unknowingly sabotaged herself when reproaching her husband for his misdeeds. To stay quiet and say nothing was reproach itself. But to say something only gave him reason to turn the situation onto the lady, claiming that she was overly emotional and making more of the situation than needed, causing him to become angry with her.
Tulip didn’t understand this entirely, but she did notice that Nanny didn’t follow her own advice, and thought perhaps that was why Nanny had never married. So she said nothing. The only sounds in the room were those of the dishes clanking and the birds singing outside the lovely morning room windows. The room was made entirely of paned windows and had the most breathtaking view of the garden. Tulip thought of herself in the future, sitting here looking out these windows by the hour, languishing. She wished the Prince would say something, anything to break this silence. She couldn’t think of what to say; anything she said would surely sound reproachful, and her tone—she wasn’t at all positive it could be tempered.
She just sat there drinking her tea and picking at her scone, waiting for him
to speak. And while waiting, she thought about that girl she’d met at the ball. Oh, what was her name? It was pretty, rather musical. She was probably the sort of girl who would rebuke the Prince in a situation like this—demand, in fact, to know where the Prince had been the night before. Then again, the girl with the pretty name was probably not the sort of girl a prince would want to marry. She sighed. Her thoughts were halted with the sound of his voice at last.
“Tulip.”
Her eyes brightened when she heard him say her name.
“Yes?” she responded, hoping he would at last make his amends for stealing away the previous night and leaving her alone to listen to the Maestro talk endlessly about his art.
“We’d better not keep the Maestro waiting.”
Her heart sank.
“Of course, shall we go to the rose garden?”
“Yes, I suppose we should.”
The rest of the week went on very much the same. Princess Tulip Morningstar pouted and played with the castle’s cat, the Maestro gesticulated wildly while making grand speeches about art at every opportunity, and the Prince escaped every evening to the tavern with Gaston the moment they were done sitting for the Maestro.
On the day of the unveiling of the new portrait, quite a little family party had been arranged. Tulip was in better spirits to have her mother, Queen Morningstar, there, as well as some of her ladies to attend her. Also present was Gaston, as well as a few other close friends of the Prince’s. King Morningstar of course couldn’t take time away from his duties at court but sent along lavish gifts for both his daughter and his future son-in-law.
After they had feasted well on what was one of Mrs. Potts’s most outstanding dinners to date, everyone went into the great hall to partake in the unveiling of the portrait. The great hall was filled with paintings of the Prince’s entire family, including portraits of him that had been painted from the time he was a wee lad.
“Ah! I see you’ve hung the Maestro’s portrait here in the great hall, where it belongs. Good choice, old man!” said Gaston as he looked upon faces he had grown up with.
“Yes, I thought it was better suited in here.”
A rather loud clearing of the throat was heard from the other side of the room, where the Maestro was standing. It seemed he thought the occasion required more ceremony and this idle chat was debasing the situation at hand. Thank goodness he wouldn’t have to suffer this company much longer.
“Yes, well, without further delay, I would like to share the latest of my greatest treasures.” With that, Lumiere pulled the cord, which dropped the black silk cloth that had been concealing the painting. The room erupted into a loud clatter of sighs and applause. Everyone seemed to be highly impressed with the painting, and the Maestro soaked in the praise that was being heaped upon him like an actor on the stage would—bowing at the waist and placing his hand upon his heart to indicate that he was very touched indeed.
No doubt he actually was.
The Prince couldn’t help noticing how harshly he had been painted in the portrait. His eyes looked cruel, piercing, almost like those of a wolf seeking his prey, and his mouth looked thinner, more sinister than it had looked before. Gaston knocked the Prince with his elbow.
“Say something, man! They’re expecting a speech!” he whispered in the Prince’s ear.
“I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful portrait of my lovely bride-to-be!” the Prince finally uttered.
Princess Tulip blushed deeply and said, “Thank you, my love. And I, too, couldn’t have asked for a more handsome and dignified visage of my prospective husband.”
Dignified? Wasn’t that a word one used for older men? Did he look dignified? His visage, as she called it, looked harsh and worn, not one of a man who had not yet reached his twentieth birthday, but one of a man well into his forties. This wouldn’t do. Dignified!
The party was led out of the great hall and into the music room, where a group of musicians waited to entertain the party. By all accounts the evening went on pleasantly enough, but the Prince couldn’t take his mind off the painting. He looked so worn, so ugly. Had Tulip agreed to marry him simply because she would eventually be queen in these lands? Did she love him at all?
He couldn’t see how.
He slipped away from the party to confirm the Maestro’s rendition of him in his bedroom mirror. He just stood there staring, trying to find himself in the man staring back at him. Why hadn’t anyone said anything? How could he have changed so much in so little time?
Later that evening, when the Prince’s guests and staff were all tucked into their beds, the Prince stole out of his rooms and made his way down the long, dark corridor. He was fearful of waking Queen Morningstar. She would of course think he was sneaking into the princess’s chamber, but that was the furthest thing from his mind now. When he passed Tulip’s room, a creaking sound startled him, but it was only that blasted cat pushing the door open. He had no idea why the princess liked it so well. There was something sinister about the way the feline looked at him, and something eerie in her markings, which made her look like a creature that roamed cemeteries rather than castle grounds.
Well, if the queen did wake to find him prowling the halls, she wouldn’t believe he was on his way to look at his painting again. He’d been sleeping fitfully and unable to rest, his thoughts consumed by that ghastly painting. Once he got into the great hall and managed to light the candles, he stood there staring at the painting again. He had indeed changed—that had been clear when he looked at himself in the mirror earlier that evening—but surely the Maestro had dramatized the changes. Just look at the difference between this painting and the last, which had been done less than a year earlier. There was no way a man could change so dramatically. He would never forgive the Maestro for creating the unfavorable rendering. He decided the man must pay for such an uncharitable act.
The beautiful orange-and-black cat seemed to be in accord with the Prince, because she narrowed her eyes in much the same way he did when he plotted his revenge.
At the Prince’s encouragement, Cogsworth had all visiting guests packed and stuffed into the carriages very early the next morning. Mrs. Potts was disappointed not to have the opportunity to serve the guests breakfast before the start of their travels, so she packed a large trunk with lovely things for them to eat on their journey. The sun was barely visible, and the tops of the trees were obscured in mist. There was a terrible chill in the air, so it didn’t seem unreasonable that the Prince was eager to get back withindoors, where he could warm himself.
He made his good-byes to his guests, thanking them all and bidding them farewell, with promises of love and letter writing to Tulip. He sighed in great relief when the carriages drove away. Gaston, who had been standing silently at his side, finally spoke.
“So why was it you woke me at this ungodly hour, my friend?”
“I need a little favor. Some time back you mentioned a particularly unscrupulous fellow who can be called upon for certain deeds.”
Gaston raised his eyebrows. “Surely there are ways to get out of marrying the princess other than having her killed!”
The Prince laughed.
“No, man! I mean the Maestro! I would like you to make the arrangements for me. The incident cannot be traced back to me, you understand?”
Gaston looked at his friend and said, “Absolutely!”
“Thank you, good friend. And once that is sorted, what do you say to a day of hunting?”
“Sounds perfect! I would like nothing more.”
As Princess Tulip Morningstar’s carriage rolled up the path leading to the Prince’s castle, she thought there was nothing more breathtaking than the sight of the castle in wintertime. Her father’s kingdom was beautiful, yes, but it didn’t compare to the Prince’s, especially when it was covered in pure white snow and decorated for the winter solstice.
&nbs
p; The entire castle was infused with light and glowing brightly in the dark winter night. She had high hopes for this visit and wished nothing more than for the Prince to treat her with kindness and love like he once had. Surely the winter holiday would cheer his sour mood of late and bring him back around to the man she’d fallen in love with that dreamy night at the ball.
“Look, Nanny, isn’t it beautiful the way the pathway is lined with candlelight?”
Nanny smiled and said, “Yes, my dear child, it’s very beautiful. Even more lovely than I imagined it would be.”
Tulip sighed.
“What is it, Tulip? What’s troubling you?”
Tulip said nothing. She loved her nanny dearly and couldn’t bring herself to ask her what she’d been rehearsing the entire way from her father’s kingdom to their destination.
“I think I know, dear heart, and don’t you fret. I won’t give the Prince any reason to be upset this visit, I promise you. Nanny will keep her thoughts to herself this time.”
Tulip smiled and kissed her nanny on her soft powdery cheek.
“That’s right, give your old nanny a kiss and forget your troubles. It’s solstice, dear, your favorite time of year, and nothing will ruin this for you, I promise you that!”
The carriage reached the front doors of the castle, where Lumiere was standing, waiting to open her carriage door.
“Bonjour, Princess! Aren’t you looking as beautiful as always? It is so lovely to see you again!”
Tulip giggled and blushed, as she often did when Lumiere spoke to her.
“Hello, Lumiere. I trust the Prince is attending to more pressing matters than taking time to greet his fiancée, who has traveled across the country to visit him for the solstice?” grumbled Nanny. Lumiere took it in stride.
“Indeed, Nanny! If both of you will follow me, Christian there will take your luggage to your apartments in the East Wing.”
The Beast Within Page 5
