Cloaks and Roses: A Retelling of Beauty and the Beast

Gone

Louis

***

She'd felt his scars.

Louis paced his bedroom, his face in his hands, mortified. Belle was probably disgusted with him.

He ripped his scarf off and stared at his face in the mirror.

He was disgusted with himself.

How could someone so beautiful ever be able to look at someone so horribly disfigured, so ugly? He could never expect her to feel anything for him after today.

But he loved her so.

It was a mistake to bring her here.

***

Isabelle

***

There was a knock on Isabelle's door while she was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think.

She cracked it open and peeked out. She moved to close the door, not seeing anyone, but a noise of protest came from below her line of sight.

Gabrielle stood, teddy bear in hand, thumb in her mouth. She was so cute. Isabelle's heart melted.

"Gabrielle, what are you doing here?" she asked, sinking to her knees so that she was at eye level with the little girl.

"I can't sleep," she murmured, yawning.

Isabelle scooped her up in her arms and carried the little girl to her bed.

"You can sleep with me."

Isabelle turned and closed the door, then climbed into bed. Gabrielle curled into her side. "Why are you and Lou sad?" she asked.

"Your brother isn't sad," she told her, avoiding the question.

"Yes he is. His eyes are sad."

Isabelle closed her eyes, fighting off the questions her brain started forming before they could drive her crazy.

"Don't worry, Gabrielle. We're okay."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." 

Gabrielle yawned and drifted off to sleep. Isabelle played with her hair and went right back to staring at the ceiling. This time it was harder not to think.

***

Breakfast was horrid. 

Isabelle tried to meet Louis's eyes and suggest that they talk, but he wouldn't even look at her. The second he finished eating he all but ran from the room, planting a kiss on Gabrielle's head and muttering excuses about work.

Isabelle sighed, suddenly not hungry anymore.

For a while yesterday, she'd thought that she could be happy again; that she could be loved; that she could belong. But she was wrong.

Louis didn't want her here. Gabrielle loved her, but she would be okay if Isabelle left. The servants would have less work. 

Everyone would be happier.

Even Isabelle.

Because she couldn't bear to look at Louis anymore, knowing she loved him so much and it wasn't reciprocated. Knowing he would never love her. Knowing she would never be a part of this family; of anyone's family.

She pushed her bowl of oatmeal away and ran up to her room. She threw all of her clothes into a sack, leaving all of the ones Louis had bought for her. She packed her meager possessions and did a turn around the room, making sure she hadn't left anything.

She felt the ring on her right hand- her mother's, and the necklace underneath her dress-her father's. 

Then she snuck downstairs and out the back door.

She looked longingly at the rose bush and, unable to stop herself, picked a single rose to take with her.

She snuck through the woods until she came to the little country road, a few miles away from the house. 

She began walking, her heart heavy.

***

Louis

***

Louis could feel Belle trying to make eye contact. He sat there, in his hideous cloak and his hideous scarf, hiding his hideous face, and avoided her.

He felt guilty. He felt angry. He felt lonely.

Guilty because he was ignoring her after acting so improperly yesterday. Angry because he couldn't be handsome for her because of his stupid father. Lonely because he missed her, even while she sat across from him.

Something had to change.

But as he found himself making excuses to leave the table, he wondered if things could change.

***

Noon took an excrutiatingly long time to arrive. Louis hurried to the table, anxious to see Belle and dreading it at the same time.

Gabrielle and a servant came to the table. Gabrielle sat and the servant started to walk away.

"Wait!" he called. She turned around, head bowed. "Please escort Mademoiselle Isabelle to the table."

The servant nodded, curtsied, and walked quickly upstairs.

Louis waited, a strange feeling of dread forming in his stomach. The servant returned after what felt like an eternity.

"She is not here, Monsieur."

"What?" he roared.

He pushed away from the table and sprinted up the stairs. She couldn't be gone. She couldn't be. She had nowhere to go.

He pushed open her door. Her room appeared to be in order... too organized.

He checked the wardrobe and drawers. 

Everythind she'd brought with her was gone.

He ran down the hall, checking the library and the kitchen. He checked the rose garden and the lake.

Belle was gone.

He dropped to his knees at the lake, his face in his hands.

What had he done?