“Bring me to my father!” Belle struggled to keep her voice even, to not scream, lest they lock her up herself for hysteria.
“At once, of course, don’t you worry,” the Constable said. To his wife, he said, “Belle has informed me that it seems Mr. Castelle’s delusions are based on a misunderstanding.”
“His poor vision made him see a beast,” Belle said, the lies falling easily off her tongue, “when it was merely a man in a fur coat, a man with a horrible deformity. I’ve been staying with this man outside of town to assist him.” She had no intention of telling them that there really was a Beast. “So we must get my Papa home with me at once. I need your help, Mrs. Sharone, and Constable, sir. I need you to testify that Henry Castelle is neither criminal nor insane.”
Mrs. Sharone looked at her husband, frowning, but the Constable nodded to her, and she sighed heavily.
“I was so sure,” Mrs. Sharone muttered. “Well. We must make this right, then,” she said finally. “Let’s not tarry.”
The three went back outside to the carriage and retraced their path, back to town, and stopped outside of the courthouse. A crowd was beginning to form.
The Constable tossed a coin to one of the men to water and stable his horse while he was gone.
Belle didn’t wait, she ran past them into the small courthouse. Her father stood, in chains, before the judge.
“Your honor!” she called, pushing past the crowd. “Please, your honor, I am not murdered. There has been a mistake.”
Her father’s face lit up. “Am I dreaming? Belle, is that really you?”
“Yes, Papa,” she cried. “It’s me.”
She ran up to him, ignoring the shouting in the courtroom, and wrapped her arms around him. He couldn’t return the embrace with his wrists chained in front of him, but he kissed her face, overjoyed to see his daughter had not been eaten by the Beast.
The Constable and his wife stepped forward, and gave their amended testimony to the judge.
The judge nodded to the officer, who stood near her father, and he took his keys out of his pocket and immediately freed him.
“You are free to go, Mr. Castelle,” the judge said, “with the court’s apologies. We sought justice for your daughter, but it is clear as day that she has not been murdered, nor eaten by a beast. Court is adjourned.”
He banged his gavel, the sharp knock echoing through the courthouse. It sounded like freedom.
Henry Castelle hugged Belle tightly. “Thank goodness you’re all right,” he sobbed. “Did the Beast harm you?”
“Shhh,” she said. She gripped his shoulder and spoke into her father’s ear, her voice low and desperate. “Never speak of him. I’m fine. Let’s go home, Papa.”
***
At home, after her Papa had a long hot bath and a good rest, they sat together and she tried to explain about the Beast. But her father would have none of it.
“Please, Belle, do not speak of that monster—it breaks my heart. I just want to be with you, to make up for the time we have lost.”
It had been a long, exhausting day, and here at home, there was no Beast to seek out for relaxing conversation.
She longed for Frederick, as well. The sooner she lay her head on her pillow, the sooner she might see him. At least with Frederick, she could talk about the Beast to her heart’s content.
After supper and reading aloud to her father for a while, they bid each other goodnight with a long, tearful embrace, and she went to her room to sleep in her own bed for the first time since she became the Beast’s prisoner.
It felt good to be home, it did. But she already missed the Beast, and missed Frederick. The events of the day swirled in her mind, over and over, repeating itself endlessly, affording her no rest.
…Confronting the Constable, watching as he knocked his chair to the floor in surprise…
…The maze of doors at the mental asylum, finding her father’s room vacant, not knowing where her Papa was…
…Running into the courthouse to find him in chains, embracing him, calling out for mercy on his head…
…The sound of the gavel granting her Papa his long-awaited freedom.
Oh, it had been a long day indeed. She snuck back out of her room and into the kitchen, where she found a small bottle of sherry, and took a deep swallow to help slow her circling thoughts and ease her into dreamland, where she might meet with Frederick and find comfort in his arms once more.
With the effects of the alcohol easing her mind, she tumbled back into her little bed and fell into a fitful sleep. But in her dreams, she wandered her village alone.
Where is my Frederick?
“Fairies, help me find my lover,” she whispered to the night sky.