The Servants and the Beast

by R. A. Gates

  “How can you of all people not believe in true love?” I asked today.

  “I believe in being cared for by one who professes love,” Moll said, and gave a bawdy laugh.

  I was disturbed. Not that she’d laugh at such a sentiment, though I failed to see the humor. No, it was that her laugh was not as strong as when our long enchantment had begun.

  Moll had become my dearest friend over the years. She put up with my oft-voiced complaints of being trapped in the hall by the main doors, witness to all that happened here. She frequently scolded, “Don’t be ridiculous, Jayne. It is like watching stories come to life. Be grateful. We could be stuck in some dark corner, reduced to watching spiders spinning their webs.”

  Which always made me laugh, and cemented our unlikely friendship.

  I suppose it was not particularly strange to lose track of how long we’d been trapped like this. Not if Moll was right and it had been fifty years. Did anyone remember our existence? What chance was there of any girl, let alone the right girl, showing up? Perhaps Moll was correct and True Love only existed in books. Perhaps there would be no happily ever after, for any of us.

  For some, it was already too late. Over the years, as the various stories within my books had been told and retold, and as more of those itchy pink sparkles drifted onto their spines, many of my books fell silent. As if their magic had been sucked back out from them. One after another, they turned to mere paper and cloth, and I felt each loss. Though I didn’t mind so much when Hamlet stopped talking; he was always filled with gloom. And Juliet had been worse in her way. I was grateful when she finally stopped complaining about her short, sad life. After all, she’d had True Love and thrown it, and her Romeo, away.

  Some might argue that we weren’t really living at this point. But I could still think, so I believed I must live. Besides, I hoped I would never feel utter mortification after death. So many forgot that I could see and hear everything in this hallway. I’d been forced to witness tragedies and the most private of sentiments.

  Like His Beastly Highness. He had been growing desperate. Stalking up and down the hallways, just as he was doing now. “…all these years and not one peep from that nasty little fairy,” he growled as he drew near. “If she was here right now, I’d rip her wings off and stuff them…”

  He paced away, and I lost a few words before he turned back, gesticulating in agitation, lips pulled back from long, sharp teeth. “…servants grow mutinous and stare at me with contempt. As if any of them could find love with that fashion obsessed female or that completely lovesick young lady. But they care not for logic. They stare at me when they think I don’t see, and their eyes demand the impossible!”

  He paused before me, head hanging low, voice suddenly rough and…desolate? “After so long, everyone is losing hope. Well, so am I. How can I be expected to find love with just any girl who decides to show up? It is ridiculous!”

  Once again, he turned and stalked away, but this time he kept going, leaving me to ponder what he’d said. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to expect him to love the first or second girl to come along. But he was right about the servants; many were growing bitter to still be trapped in these useless forms.

  “Hark! Something wicked this way comes,” cried the 2nd Witch (Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1).

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I snapped, then raised my voice, being extra friendly to make up for the unwelcoming Witch. “That’s Robert.”

  I quite liked Robert.

  “It’s about time,” Moll muttered. “There’s sparkles piled up around your, ahem, bottom, Jayne.”

  He swept his way into the hall and came to rest beside me. Although swept was not, perhaps, the most accurate word. But mopped lacks…panache. Which Robert always had. He came often to polish the front hallway, and always made time to talk to me. Today, however his panache had deserted him. He panted out, “A young lady. Walking. Down the drive.”

  “Ah! I’m happy for you, Jayne,” Moll said quietly.

  “Don’t forget how badly the last two ended,” I cautioned.

  “Third time’s the charm, so they say,” she told me, but instead of the stirrings of anticipation I felt, she sounded…sad. “Of course, it was the fifth time for me.”

  Before I could answer, the door was flung open. Robert let himself slump back against the wall.

  Standing in the doorway was a young woman with a glorious head of curly blonde hair. She looked a bit rough around the edges; mud splashed high on her pale blue skirt, tatters along the hem. She must have walked for miles through our enchanted forest, but she still managed to hold a dainty smile on her face, her gracefully curved lips a delicate pink.

  Her smile faded as she looked around the (apparently) empty hallway. In fact, I’d even describe her expression as a pout. “After a completely miserable journey to get here, to restore everything to its former glory, you would think the least His Highness could do is meet me at the door!”

  She stepped over the threshold and glanced around, a delicate frown marring her beautiful features. She didn’t let her eyes pause for a moment on my shelves, merely looked past, looked through all my lovely books as if they didn’t exist. She turned to the great room across the hall and shook her head, making her thick curls dance upon her shoulders. “How hideous,” she blurted.

  Hideous? Had her mother not taught her better manners than that?

  She took a step into the room, her delicate heels making ticking sounds on the elegant parquet floor, and added, “It looks as if my great-great grandmother decorated this place.”

  “And who might she be?” His Highness asked in his most restrained voice as he stalked into the hall. At least he wasn’t trying to scare her off for being so insufferably rude. His expression was pleasant, if a beast’s face can ever be called pleasant. And for the first time in a long time I felt a stirring of hope. She might be rude, but she’d come here to restore things.

  “Oh!” She placed a delicate hand on her silk-clad bosom and fluttered her eyelashes. “You startled me, Your Highness. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He glanced down at his furred feet — he had the ability to stalk silent as a great cat when he chose — then looked back at the girl. “You seem to know who I am, and I’d very much like to know how. But first, what do I call you?”

  “Juliette.” She fluttered her eyelashes again. “My name is Juliette.”

  Oh no, another Juliet. Hopefully this one would have the good sense not to throw away True Love.

  “I see,” His Highness said affably. Well, I knew he was being affable. Too bad he looked so beastly when he smiled like that.

  Juliette looked him up and down, then said, “You are obviously the one under a curse. We’ll fix that. And you are not quite as hideous as I’d feared.”

  “You know about me.” He said this softly as if to himself, then asked her, “How, exactly, did you learn of me? Of my castle?”

  Juliette gave him a pretty smile but didn’t bother fluttering her lashes this time. “Our nurse used to tell us the story of the enchanted castle and the lonely Beast who had to find someone to love. He would fall in love with a beautiful maiden, the curse would be broken, and they would live happily ever after.” She looked back into the great room and grimaced briefly. Then she shrugged. “I always dreamed of being a grand lady and living in a castle, so here I am.”

  “Your father let you come? Based upon an old story?”

  “Well, he doesn’t know where I am.” She didn’t look the least bit worried by that admission. “He expects me to be meeting with that rich old merchant they want me to marry. Me. Marry a merchant!” She gave an affronted laugh. “My father is a Baron, a member of the aristocracy.”

  “Barely aristocracy,” Robert whispered, just for me to hear. “Like that makes her important.”

  Juliette smiled at His Highness again, though it looked a bit forced. “I told him I would not be married off to some grubby old member of the bourgeoisie. All my older sisters
got to marry an aristocrat. It’s hardly my fault that Father only found eleven eligible bachelors.” Her mouth tightened and she glanced down quickly as if to hide her expression. When she looked back up, her lips had curved into a sad, wistful smile. An irresistible smile.

  His Highness resisted. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice. “You knew a Beast lived here, yet you came anyway?” He appeared dazed, shaking his great head from side to side.

  “My sisters will all be insanely jealous. None married better than a Vicomte. I’ll be royalty. I’ll have royal parties!”

  “Parties,” His Highness muttered as his huge mane stood on end, like the hair along a cat’s back. Unfortunately, that made the few sparkles caught in it this evening appear even more prominent.

  “Of course, we’ll have parties!” She looked him up and down and tapped her foot as the smile slid from her face. “Although, we really must do something about all that hair.” She cocked her head, first to one side, then the other, staring at that tawny mane. “Yes, I intend to have lots of beautiful parties. I’ll invite my sisters and watch them turn green with envy. They deserve that after all the teasing I received from them. I didn’t choose to be the youngest and the prettiest of twelve sisters.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t worry,” she continued, as if he hadn’t started to speak, and I waited for an eruption that never came. I was sure she was trying for sweet and indulgent, but it was as cloying as an overly sweet croissant. “This room will be excellent for parties. Once we update the furnishings, of course. We’ll stand at the top of those curving stairs, my hand resting on your arm until every eye is upon us.” She looked back at His Highness and hesitated. “Well, maybe I’ll come down alone, while you stare adoringly from down here.”

  She waved her hand at the great room. “I assume the rest of the castle is similar to this, yes?” She didn’t wait for agreement. “It simply will not do.”

  “I… I realize there’s a bit of dust.” I had never heard His Highness sound so stiff, so formal. And I couldn’t believe he was trying to pass off the fairy’s sparkles as dust.

  Beside me, Robert stirred and muttered, “It’s not dust.”

  I whispered back, “I know!”

  “No, no, it’s not the dust, really,” Juliette said. “Though what on earth have your servants been doing?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No, it’s just…everything will have to go. The furnishings are old-fashioned. The colors are last century. And the grounds? Do not get me started.”

  “I rather like this room.” I was surprised that His Highness sounded so pleasant. If I were a beast, I’d be tempted to bite her. Instead, he was looking around the great room as if he’d never seen it before.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Juliette said derisively. “None of this will do. Surely you can see that.”

  “Some of this has importance for me,” he said, staring at the half-finished painting above the mantle. It wasn’t the subject matter he cared about, with its depiction of a very young and innocent version of the Prince. It was the painter who made that piece important. “I wouldn’t be willing—”

  “That’s fine,” Juliette interrupted. “We don’t need to discuss it tonight. You’ll see more clearly in the daylight, I’m sure.”

  “What I see is that you’ve had a long day,” he said. “You should retire for the evening and we can talk again tomorrow.”

  Over the next few days, Juliette spent much of her time in the great room alone, marching about, muttering, “When this is MY castle, I’ll change all this stodgy old stuff.”

  I didn’t know how His Highness expected to fall in love with this girl. Robert kept reporting that His Highness was avoiding her. Probably because of her constant complaints. I would have avoided her, if I could.

  The next evening, the two bumped into each other in the hall, once again forcing me to be an unwilling witness.

  Juliette eyed His Highness critically. “Well, you look somewhat better today.” That was true. His Highness must have spent hours trying to tame all that fur. She raised her eyebrows and demanded, “Do you love me yet?”

  “Do I love you…?” The baffled expression on his face nearly made me laugh, but now was not the time to remind His Highness of my presence.

  “No? Well, do not worry. I’m a very loveable person. I just hope you do so sooner rather than later. And hopefully before any kissing is involved. I think I must draw the line at kissing a Beast.”

  “Excuse me,” His Highness bit out. “I have business to attend to.” That cold, cutting tone was designed to put her in her place. It was sharp as a razor, but I thought most would not even realize they’d been cut until hours later.

  “Go ahead,” Juliette said, waving her hand around airily. “I’ll just explore.”

  “You may go anywhere in the castle except the East Wing.” This was uttered as an edict. An incontrovertible decree. “Heed me. No one may enter the East Wing!”

  “Fine,” Juliette said agreeably, though her pretty, little smile slid away. “Good day, then.” I was immediately reminded that she was also part of the aristocracy. She might not be as skilled as His Highness, but she knew how to use that same cutting tone.

  As soon as they left, I called out, “Moll?” Moll would have something insightful to say. Or if not insightful, then at least amusing. “Moll? Did you hear that?”

  I waited, but her expected laugh did not come.

  “Moll?” There was no answer, and I called out, desperation tingeing my voice as foreboding began to claw at my wooden frame. “Moll? Moll, dearest, please talk to me.”

  Again, silence was my only answer, and my sense of self wavered. Moll was my friend. She brought me moments of joy in this terrible half-life. If Moll was gone, I could almost wish the other books would fall silent as well.

  Almost.

  Only, the thought of continuing when all others were gone made my shelves sag. Could I be trapped here, alone, slowly fossilizing until, at the very last, nothing remained of me? Until what little of Lady Jayne Bea…Bea…Beatrice. Lady Jayne Beatrice Smythe would be gone as well?

  Moll had made this existence tolerable. I already missed her sarcastic comments. Her glee at watching ‘real life’ stories play out in front of us. She would have loved the drama unfolding between Juliette and the Beast, and I missed…

  I missed her.

  “What is the point of continuing with no one left to care for?” I cried. Loneliness threatened to suffocate me; I wasn’t sure I wanted to go on. Friendless. Alone once more.

  Did I have a choice? And if I did, would I have the courage to do anything about it?

  My voice emerged quite without my intention, nearly as wooden as my shelves. “I don’t think I can bear being here alone.”

  I hadn’t realized anyone else was there until the low voice spoke beside me. “I’m here, Lady Jayne.” Robert offered those words hesitantly, as if not sure how I would take them. But he needn’t have worried. My frame settled back against the wall and my shelves settled into place. Moll might be gone, but I wasn’t alone.

  The commotion began several hours later.

  Yelling. Screeching. Bellowing.

  Everyone in the castle must have heard it.

  Robert swished in. “Lady Jayne, you are fortunate to be located here.”

  “Why would you say that?” I demanded. “You know how much I hate being stuck in this hallway.”

  “She went into the East Wing. The one we had to close off when the sparkles filled it up.”

  The East Wing? That foolish girl had ignored His Highness and gone into the East Wing?

  Robert demanded, “Are you listening?”

  “I…yes. Yes, I’m listening.”

  “That girl opened the door to the East Wing and now the entire hallway is blocked. Even worse, more of those shiny bits keep spilling into our wing. Who knows how far they’ll reach—”

  We both fell silent as footsteps pounded toward us. Robert leaned again
st the wall, then let himself slump against my side. That was the first time he’d ever touched me. I rather liked it.

  Juliette hurried past me, stamping her feet with every step, leaving billows of pink and gold sparkles in her wake. Though I tried to suppress it, I sneezed as some settled onto my shelves. Fortunately, she didn’t notice, but His Highness did. He shot me an admonishing look as he trailed after Juliette.

  I nearly choked at the sight he made. His fur stuck out every which way, and every square inch was covered in sparkles. There were sparkles in his ears and stuck in his mane. His paws were obscured by sparkles up to his elbows.

  He glittered more than the faceted glass chandelier hanging overhead.

  Juliette snorted and coughed, deep racking coughs, and more sparkles shot out her nose as she sneezed. Far more loudly than I had; I knew how to sneeze like a lady.

  She whirled on His Highness. “This is all your fault!”

  “My fault?” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice calm and measured. “I told you not to go in the East Wing.”

  “I assumed there was something special that you were hiding beyond that door. Maybe you were hiding furnishings that would actually look acceptable in here.”

  “How did you manage to open it?” His Highness was finally losing his calm. I wouldn’t want him staring at me like that. He looked fierce at all times, but when his lips pulled back off his teeth like that? He resembled one of the gargoyles of Notre Dame. “I keep that door locked.”

  Juliette didn’t seem nervous as any rational person would be. “I know how to open a simple lock,” she stated, nose in the air. “After wanting to read the diaries of eleven sisters who refused to tell me anything important, I taught myself.”

  “And you thought you’d use the skills of a thief in my castle?” His voice had dropped to what I thought of as his warning tone. His ‘don’t push me any further’ tone. A bit silky. Deep and quietly menacing. I would have been quaking in my boots. If I had any. His eyes narrowed as he continued, “You had no right—”