Depravity, A Beauty and the Beast Novel(31)

Hearing someone approach, I quickly blew out the candle and plucked the shirt from the bed. Blye shuffled into the room and mumbled that she was tired. I left the room, hiding the shirt from her view and knocked on Father’s study.

He called for me to enter in a slightly harassed tone. Feeling guilty for interrupting him, but not wanting either of my sisters to see the shirt before he did, I opened the door and slipped inside.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to give this to you.” I held out the shirt.

When he looked up from his writing and his eyes focused on what I held, he set his ink aside. “Not from the chest, but just as fine,” he deduced. “Where did it come from?”

“The estate,” I said without reservation. I’d gathered so many odd things from the enchanted estate it rarely drew any notice when I came home with something new. Though, everything in the past had been something to eat.

“This is a surprise. Tell me how you came by it exactly,” he said, standing and taking it from me. He studied it closely, missing my blush.

I couldn’t retell all of the details, just enough to appease his curiosity.

“Tennen was in the cottage when I returned from the school. There was no doubting his intentions. I ran out the back door straight toward the estate, hoping to lose him in the mist.” I decided to skip the part where Tennen had almost caught me, too. “The estate let me enter, giving me refuge and that shirt because I was soaked from the rain.”

He listened intently and looked up from the shirt when I finished.

“The rain kept us on the road longer than I’d planned,” he said. “I had anticipated returning before you returned from the schoolhouse. When we didn’t, I worried about you. Then, arriving home late and finding your bed empty...” He sighed. “I’m very relieved you weren’t forced into...” He shook his head unable to finish.

“Staying at the estate wasn’t so bad,” I admitted.

“I advise you to avoid going near it for a while. The beast neither forgets nor forgives trespassers. You’re very fortunate to have walked away as many times as you have.”

Watching him walk to his chair behind the desk, I realized he wasn’t referring to my jaunts to search for food, but that he knew about my other trespasses. I didn’t wonder how. As the schoolteacher, he heard all the whispered rumors from the village children. No doubt someone had witnessed or heard something.

“At the time of each trespass, I feel I made the best choice of those given me.”

“You usually do,” he said with a half-smile. “Now excuse me while I compose a hopefully polite refusal to an unknown person. Tomorrow, I’ll ask the baker if he noted anyone of interest passing through.”

My stomach sank, but not with mention of the baker. The arrival of the shirt on my bed and the trunk at the door could not be coincidence.

“Father, it bothers me that this suitor mentioned no name, just wrote daughter. Perhaps when you word your reply, you could mention Blye’s name so there is no mistake about which daughter this person would expect if you come to an agreement.”

Father made a thoughtful noise and nodded. Already his eyes drifted to the window as he sank into thought. I left him quietly with his new shirt and crept to my own bed.



I woke late after having trouble sleeping the night before. The sun already rose above the treetops when I stepped outside dressed in trousers and Father’s old shirt. I finished braiding back my hair as I walked east toward the river. My bag bounced gently against my hip with nothing but a bit of string and a hook in it. Today, I’d fish.

At the stream, I peeled off my boots and socks. The chill from the spring ground penetrated my feet, but I ignored it as I rolled up my pant legs. I’d fished before and knew the risks. Hooks were precious, and if the line pulled too taut, I would be forced to step into the water. Walking home with cold wet feet would make for a miserable journey.

Finding a long, straight branch thin enough to hold over the water proved to be a bit of a challenge. It took me a good hour, and I wished I hadn’t been so careless with my old rod last summer. I’d accidentally stepped on it while pitching hay into the shed for the goat. Since I typically stored it in the rafters, I had no idea why it’d been on the ground in the first place. I’d been especially careful with it because I’d had such luck—we had fish for almost three weeks straight—before the fatal break.

After peeling offshoots from the branch, I tied the string on the end, baited my hook, and set to work enjoying a quiet afternoon while nibbling on day-old peapods. Too soon, I had enough fish to fill my string. While sitting on the bank to put on my socks, a loud caw from across the stream slowed my progress as I looked up. Perched on a thick branch of a tree on the other side of the stream, a crow watched me with one eye while its head turned toward the north.