Befriending the Beast Read online

  ~ Other Works by Amanda Tero ~

  Orphan Journeys Novellas

  Journey to Love (Marie’s Story, 1901)

  Orphan Journeys Short Stories

  Letter of Love (Edward’s Story, 1902)

  Short Stories

  Coffee Cake Days

  Deb’s Bible (for new readers)

  Debt of Mercy

  Letters from a Scatter-brained Sister

  Maggie’s Hope Chest

  Noelle’s Gift

  Peace, Be Still

  Befriending the Beast

  © 2016 by Amanda Tero

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Amanda Tero

  Decatur, MS 39327

  All Scripture references taken from the King James Version. Public domain.

  This novel is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  _______________________________________________

  Cover design by Amanda Tero

  Images from

  www.pixabay.com

  Used by permission.

  Formatted by Amanda Tero

  To Aimee Hebert

  Because you sure do put up with a lot of me!

  - your beloved “sandpaper.”

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Discussion Questions

  Historical Note

  Author's Note

  Belle wasn't sure she was ready to return. But she knew it was time. She sank back into the plush red cushions of the carriage and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The next second, she leaned forward to stare out the window. The scenery should look familiar by now, yet it didn't. But then, didn't things change with time?

  Time. Belle leaned back again and closed her eyes. Had Papa changed any? How would he take her return? Should she have written? She doubted it would have done any good. Unless… dare she hope that he was different now?

  "Whoa!" The carriage slowed, then jerked, as it came to a complete stop. Whether or not she was ready, Belle was home.

  The door opened, and the footman held his hand out to Belle. She slipped her gloved hand into his and climbed down. The coachmen moved her trunks from the carriage to the ground. If Belle hadn't been so desperate to come home today -- so worried that someone would hinder her from returning here -- Anis would have been with her, seeing to her things. However, the morrow would come soon enough, with her lady-in-waiting and the rest of her belongings.

  Her hands burrowed into the full skirt of her brown gown, the handfuls of fabric soothing her. I can do this. Her quivering body seemed to disagree as she forced herself to look at the castle she had left behind years ago. The front walls protruded on either side of the double doors, as if guarding the entrance. Towers rose on the sides of the castle, making her feel small and insignificant.

  "Your royal highness."

  Belle turned to the coachman, who bowed before her with his arm held out. She slid her hand into the crook of the man's arm as he escorted her towards the castle. Her slow steps rustled her dress as she moved forward. The doors in front of her swung open, and a young butler stepped out.

  "May I help you, miss?" he asked stiffly.

  The coachman straightened as he eyed the butler. "I present to you her royal highness, Princess Belle, daughter of the king."

  The butler's poise matched the coachman's. He gave Belle a stiff bow, eyeing her with doubt. "His majesty has not mentioned that he is expecting your royal highness' return."

  "Nay, he isn't expecting me." Belle pitied the butler, who seemed torn between his duties toward the king and the princess presented at the castle doors. "May I speak with Geoffrey? Or -- or Isabel?" She cringed. Lady Kiralyn would frown at her lack of confidence.

  "Come with me." The butler bowed again, then looked at the coachman. "You may place her trunks in the front passage."

  Belle followed the butler through the corridor and into the drawing room.

  Here, in the absence of the coachman, the butler lifted his head, looking down his nose at her. "One moment." His voice was haughty as he left Belle in silence.

  How many years had it been since she had last stood here? Six or seven at least. Standing here, though, time faded. She walked to the window and looked out. The grounds were immaculate. Trees sprinkled the front lawn, bushes hedged the circular drive, everything was trimmed and neat, just as it had been when she had left.

  "Your highness?" the voice behind her sounded more hesitant than surprised.

  Belle spun around. "Isabel!" She half-ran to the maid then paused slightly before gently clasping her arms.

  "Let me have a look!" Isabel stepped back. "Why did you not send word? Your room isn't freshened up! Ack! Child, you are beautiful! Favian, order her things in."

  The two slipped past the butler and into the front hall.

  "Is--is Papa well?" Belle asked, her voice low.

  Isabel shrugged her shoulders. "Has the royal beast--beg pardon." The apology wasn't sincere. "Has his majesty ever been well since…" Her gaze slipped from Belle's and she shifted her weight.

  Belle sighed. "'T'was wrong of me to stay away."

  "Tsk!" Isabel led Belle towards the stairs. "That did not make him become the man he is today."

  Belle stopped walking and stared at the maid, who continued making her way up the stairs. What had Papa become? She didn't follow Isabel, but paused at the foot of the staircase and looked around. The front room was large and empty. She remembered days past when it would be lit and filled with the chatter of happy people. Today, the only brightness came from the sunlight which dared to peek out from among the drapes. Her footsteps sounded empty… hollow… as she turned to follow Isabel.

  "Where is your lady-in-waiting?" Isabel demanded when Belle joined her.

  "Do not fret," Belle raised her hand, the long, silky sleeve falling down to her elbow. "She shall be here on the morrow. I did not wish to wait."

  "The morrow!" Isabel shook her head, her brows furrowed. "Plunging headlong into things still."

  "I try to do better." Belle lowered her voice. "Has Papa dismissed all the servants?" Things were too quiet around the castle.

  "Dismissed…" Isabel shrugged. "Some fled. Only a few of us remain here."

  "Why didn't you go?"

  "Tsk! Don't mind my words. I only half mean what I say. Some things cannot be forgotten." Isabel's voice faded to a whisper as she added, "Or some people."

  Belle nodded. Mama had been the essence of beauty. The life of the castle. The gentle hand in the midst of trouble. No one could ever forget her.

  "Here we are!" There was a hint of cheer in Isabel's voice.

  Though the room was dark, the pale blue walls sent a wave of memories over Belle. She wanted to stay and relax here, letting the memories wash over her.

  "I can have my things moved into the room adjoining yours, if you wish." Isabel's stern glance spoke of her disapproval for Belle's solitude. Belle was certain the maid would move into the next room, even if she said she did not wish it. "I'll direct you
r things up here," Isabel said, leaving Belle alone in the silence.

  Belle laid a hand on the Persian blue bedspread. She could barely see the colors, but she knew this place well. It had been her quiet escape. She walked towards the window and pulled back the heavy curtain, sending a shaft of light into the chamber. One glance told her that these gardens, too, had remained the same. She looked up to the sky. "Lord, I'm here." Urgency surged through her being. "Please show me what to do."

  Belle stood in front of the clock and stared at the motionless hands. "At what hour do we dine?" she asked, as if the timeless clock would help her to know when the hour was approaching. She would have to find someone to fix it.

  "We haven't a dinner hour," Isabel answered curtly as she pulled clothes from Belle's trunk. In the time that they had been up here, Isabel had whisked around, dusting, changing bed sheets, and opening drapes, barely stopping between tasks.

  "Why not?"

  "His majesty prefers to eat alone. and when he pleases. Are you ready for dinner, your highness?"

  "Aye." Belle turned from the clock as Isabel hung the last of Belle's gowns -- the fabric was an airy pink that Lord Kiralyn, Belle's uncle, had chosen for her.

  "Prepare for wagging tongues, your highness." Isabel gave a grunt as she opened the door. "Favian has likely told the whole castle that you have arrived."

  Belle kept silent as she let Isabel guide her, though she hadn't forgotten her way to the kitchen. She would let Isabel treat her as a guest today.

  As they hurried through the halls and rooms, Belle snatched glimpses of the faded grandeur. Heavy curtains kept the sun from sending rays of brightness into the rooms, draping them all in somber darkness.

  They neared the kitchen before Belle realized that they had not passed a single soul. How many servants had been dismissed or, as Isabel put it, had fled? An empty castle seemed ill-advised, even if this was a time of peace.

  Scents from the kitchen greeted Belle as they descended the final flight of steps. Welcome light spilled out from a large stone oven in the middle of the room. Tables lined the walls, with half-empty barrels and buckets underneath. Used to be, Belle would slip into the kitchen and hide in the corner. There was always much motion with the skirts of busy maids swishing around as they paid her no mind. Today, only one younger maid walked about. Someone Belle didn't remember.

  "Serve up a dish for the princess," Isabel commanded, joining the maid in her work.

  "Yes, ma'am." The maid barely glanced up from peeling carrots. Her head bobbed towards Belle in a slight bow as she quickened her speed.

  "Oh, you needn't hurry on my account," Belle said. "What is your name?"

  "Grede, your highness."

  "You must be new, like Favian."

  A faint tint of pink brushed Grede's cheeks. "Yes, your highness." Her blue eyes peeked up at Belle before dropping again to watch her hands.

  Quick, steady footsteps interrupted the silence that had fallen.

  "His majesty demands--" Percy stopped short as he surveyed Belle. His heels clicked together and he gave a low bow. His voice softened as he said, "Your highness, my pleasure to see you again."

  "The pleasure is mine, Percy." Belle held out her hand to the middle-aged scribe.

  A fond smile played at Percy's lips. He glanced at Grede. "A plate for the King. And he is not patient."

  "Is he ever?" Isabel muttered. Percy shot her a cold glare.

  "How is my father?" Belle walked over to Percy and looked up at him. His hair was almost completely gray, just traces of dark brown remaining.

  Percy's face tensed. "I'm afraid he is not pleased with your unannounced return."

  "Would he have been pleased if it were announced?"

  Percy shook his head. "I wish I could say he would be." He took the tray Grede had prepared. He walked out of the doorway then paused. "Your highness…" He turned back towards Belle, but didn't make eye contact.

  "Yes, Percy?"

  "The king refuses to see you."

  Belle nodded. "I understand his eve may be full, and did not expect him to--"

  "Nay," Percy shook his head solemnly. "Not ever."

  Dark stillness surrounded Belle. Though her body sank into the fluffiness of the bed, she couldn't relax. Isabel's snores from the next room assured her that the hour for sleep should have come a long time ago. Slipping out of bed, Belle crept across the cool marble floor to the window. Only a sliver of the moon showed its face tonight.

  Belle slid onto the window seat and pulled her legs towards her, resting her chin on her knees. For a moment, she stared into the darkness, the conversation she'd overheard a few weeks ago playing in her mind. She had been in the sitting room of her aunt and uncle's, buried in the world of reading. She hadn't intended on eavesdropping, but Lord and Lady Kiralyn's voices were easily heard from the next room.

  "Something must be done with the girl." Belle's uncle sounded agitated. "She is, all things considered, our child now. But if we do not do things properly, we could be beheaded."

  "He isn't so brutal, my lord."

  "Whatever the case is, 'tis near time for Belle to make her debut. She is too lovely to be left in the shadows. And 'tisn't fitting for the lineage to cease because her father refuses to take part in her life. If she were my own daughter -- and I daresay that she is more mine than Jarin's -- I would do everything in my power to fit her for her position."

  "But you know we should do nothing without the king's assent."

  "Aye, I just said that." Lord Kiralyn had an impatient growl in his voice. "We shall see about getting her father to transfer guardianship over to us by her sixteenth birthday. Jarin cannot disannul her royalty, even with us as her guardians."

  Belle's book slipped to the floor unnoticed as she stood. As a child, she had fled to her aunt and uncle's to escape the sorrows of Mama's passing and found their arms open wide. But did these same arms seek to forever separate her from Papa? If she were still the eight-year-old weeping over her father's grief, she might be grateful for Lord Kiralyn's interference. But things had changed this winter. Beyond her understanding, she felt the yearning to go back. Her uncle's declaration to contact Papa changed her yearning into a firm decision.

  Lord, tonight, she couldn't bring her lips to speak, I thought Thou leddest me here to try again. But if Papa refuses to see me, how can I tell him I'm sorry? How can I make up for leaving him alone like that? Please show me the next step to take.

  Dim light played on her face as she turned to wordless prayer, trusting that her Lord, Who saw her heart, knew what it was crying though she was unable to utter it.

  "Your highness!" Reproof etched Isabel's voice as she laid a firm hand on the princess.

  Belle looked up and squinted in the morning brightness.

  "Was your bed not to your liking? Has Lady Kiralyn spoilt you to where your own comfortable bed is detestable?"

  "Nay." Belle yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Auntie Elayne's palace may not be quite so fine, but 'twasn't the bed that kept me from sleeping."

  Isabel huffed as she pulled out a gown for Belle.

  "Something simple today, please." If Anis was here, she would know the proper dress for Belle. But it would be mid-morn before the lady-in-waiting arrived.

  Isabel returned the laced emerald dress for a slender, cream dress with gold trim and helped her into it.

  "I'm sorry I came ahead of Anis. I didn't realize this would hinder your work."

  "Tsk!" Isabel's fingers ran through Belle's hair as she prepared to braid it. "Your coming has broken the dullness of the days here."

  When her hair was finished, Belle went down the stairs. This time, she would take the walk to the kitchen more leisurely. The first room she came to was the ballroom. As a child, she remembered dances and festivities in this room. The chandeliers would have been lit, reflecting brilliantly off the golden arches that accented the ceiling. Now, it was dark and dreary.

  With a shiver, she left the room behind and hurried t
hrough the back corridor, slipping past the other rooms. The stone steps to the kitchen made her footsteps echo as she rushed down.

  "Good morn, your highness." Grede's voice had a slight bounce to it as she greeted the princess. "May I fix your breakfast?"

  "Yes, please."

  "What shall it be?"

  "What have you prepared?"

  "Nay, your highness." Grede laughed. "You tell me, and I shall prepare it."

  "Well, then." Belle found a stool to sit on.

  Grede's brows furrowed, "Your highness, I can call Favian to bring more than a stool for you to sit upon. We are not accustomed to royalty gracing our kitchen."

  Belle shook her head. "I may be the princess, but Lady Kiralyn taught me to never frown upon what is available."

  "Very well, your highness." Grede paused and looked timidly at Belle. "You still have not told me your desire."

  Belle laughed. "I shall take bread and cheese."

  "What? A peasant's fair?" Grede brought her hand to her chest and her cheeks flushed a darker pink. "With all respect, your highness."

  "You asked what I wanted, there 'tis."

  "Aye, your highness. May I add herring or -- or beef to that fare? Milk, surely."

  "I assure you, bread and cheese -- with the milk -- shall be fine. I'm not one for eating much in the morn."

  "Aye, your highness." Grede began preparations swiftly. "Shall I take it to the dining hall?"

  "Nay." Belle shuddered at the thought of breakfasting alone in the large, empty room that used to seat her and her family. "Do you enjoy work here, Grede?"

  "'Tis as well as any place. Though 'tis pleasant to have direct orders for meals instead of fixing a meal only to have it returned." Grede looked shyly at Belle. "No disrespect to his majesty." She leaned in and whispered, "Would you know that I have worked here for a full year and have yet to see him thrice?"