II :: The Nobleman

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MORBID BITE

Chapter Two: The Nobleman

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Belle's head rested on the man's shoulder. Her eyes were lightly shut and every so often they fluttered open, revealing the white of her eyes; all she could sense was the jagged movement as the man struggled with her in his arms. The white brick house they approached was freckled with cracks. Its grandeur spoke of an ancient past, the stairways and hallways echoing with the ghosts of its past. Yet, the house was not as ancient as first appeared, it was simply worn down with memories.

The man's face stained as he carried Belle towards the mansion. He tried his best to knock on the door, while keeping hold of Belle's body, so she did not drop onto the cold ground. The sun was beginning to cast a yellow glow over the frosted ground and the man's eyes followed the sun's light as it ran across the earth. He turned his head back to the entrance and slammed his fist on the rosewood door.

"Mrs Coté!" he yelled. His eyes lingered on Belle's cut face.

A stoat woman opened the door, her tiny frame in eyeline with Belle's head that hung limp around the man's forearm. Her eyes widened in shock as she noticed the blood and dirt which covered her face.

"Master Lyon!" she exclaimed as the man pushed past her and into the entrance hall.

Belle moved her head and lifted her eyelids open, her gaze locking with the woman who shook dumfounded in front of them. The poor woman was closing the door behind them and fumbling around with the locks when the voice of her master rocked her back into reality.

"Mrs Coté, where shall I take her?" He stared intently at his housemaid.

"Oh." She gulped and pulled her bonnet tighter around her greying hair. "Take her through to the kitchen."

Mrs Coté bundled towards the servant's stairs that lead down into the kitchens. The man followed his eyes on the floor so not to trip over any frayed edges of carpet. The kitchen table was covered in equipment but Mrs Coté battered the things away with her arms, creating room for the Belle's limp body. The man placed her onto the table with great care, so not to jolt any of her open wounds. The housemaid brought out a basin of cold, clean water from the larder, poured it into a glass and carefully tipped the liquid into Belle's mouth, who began to cough making Mrs Coté spill some water onto her cheek.

"Master Lyon, I need to examine her wounds." She waited a moment to see if he would leave, but he stood next to the women his hand not leaving the woman's side. Not waiting for a hint from her master she began to unbutton Belle's torn dress. The man's eyebrows rose, and he left, feeling it would be wrong to stay and watch.

Mrs Coté removed the once elegant dress and examined Belle's wounds. Most were simple scratches that covered her torso, which had torn through the fabric and grazed her soft skin. The worst wounds covered her face and feet. The maid ran her fingers over the cuts evaluating how deep the injuries were. Her rough hands were steady and using clean cloth she bathed the woman's body. Belle felt suddenly warm and safe and as the noise of the fire consumed her senses she fell into a troubled slumber.

Belle ran her eyes over the ceiling, but her vision was unfocused, and she could only make out grey shapes. A face occasionally popped into her view but vanished as fast as it appeared. The memory of her father's ripped off head exploded into her thoughts. She felt as though her body was drenched in blood and all she wanted to do was lower herself into a steaming hot bath. Yesterday morning she had been in her bedroom, looking out of her window in her family home, the sun rising over Paris. She had felt at peace with the world, like her life was about to start. She was going to marry someone she had never met, yes, but it had been a joyous occasion.

A pain like burning flesh began to spread over her skin, as the housemaid dabbed her damp cloth on the wounds, Belle moaned but the fatigue took over and she fell into disturbed sleep once again.

Belle's eyes shot open. All around her there was brilliant white, and every corner of the room was lit by the open window. For a split second she thought she was in heaven, but then the ache returned to her body and the divine sensation that had overcome her vanished. The memory of the preceding days or maybe only hours rushed back to her.

"Papa," she whispered to herself.

Why did she just leave him? She should have tried to help not just run and leave him to die alone. She took in a deep breath and held it, she wished to quell the pain in her soul and compose her racing heart. Rubbing her forehead her fingers felt over a rough bandage that covered her head. The compress went around the crown of her head and the frizzed ends spilled from under the bind. Stretching her eyes up to the ceiling she stopped the tears that caught in her throat.

Belle carefully moved back the covers and began to move her legs out onto the floor. Without looking down she stood up, but her legs could not hold her weight and letting a high yelp, thudded to the ground. The souls of her feet throbbed with pain. Grinding her teeth, she sat on the floor and brought her leg up to examine the base of her foot, which – like her head – was bandaged in a neat binding.

"Miss!" the housemaid shouted as she's pushed open the door, alerted by the commotion. She came rattling in carrying a tray with dirty plates and an empty pot of tea.

"I am quite fine, thank you."

Belle struggled to get back onto her feet and the pain shot up her leg, making her dig her teeth into the side of her month so not to scream or fall.

"No miss, you need help."

Mrs Cote placed the tray on the bed and took some of Belle's weight, the woman was unusually strong for the size of her. The two-woman worked together to get Belle back onto the edge of the bed. Belle was out of breath and in a lot of pain by the time she had swung her legs back under the sheets and the lady had tucked the blanket around her bruised body.

"Is everything alright," a masculine voice sounded from down the hall. A moment later a pair of heavy footsteps began to approach the room.

Belle could not quite fathom what to do. She wore a white night dress that she had no clue got on her, a face covered in bandages and she was about to meet the stranger that saved her life.

The man walked through the door with an entitled arrogance Belle had come to understand was connected to many men. At many of the social dances Belle had been introduced to aristocrats and barons, money seeped through their countenance. Their huge estate and many mistresses were a good given right in their eyes, and to not have money or power was never considered an option.

"Hallo," his deep voice was soft. And Belle could not help but notice that there was an awkwardness she had not expected. His long white shirt only just covered his knees, his hairy legs making Belle let out a nervous laugh. The shock of her reaction had turned him red, after he realised he was only wearing his night clothes.

"I am sorry for intruding," he said, moving himself into the hallway, "I shall return when you are in bed...I mean I am clothed, covered in bed...sorry um resting," he mumbled as he left wander back along the corridor his eyes glued to the floor.

Belle smiled, which brought a warmth to her face. The gentlemen had been so strange that she could not help but wonder if she had miss judged him. How strange it was to see a man in his bed clothes, only once had she seen her father in just a shirt and she had been very young at the time. She felt a flush return to her cheeks and she caressed the side of her mouth wondering if the house maid had noticed her indiscretion. The maid was rearranged Belle's bandages over her feet, so it appeared that she had not noticed her flushed colour.

"There you are Miss." She smiled and patted Belle's hand, a look of pity in her cataract eyes.

"Thank you...Please I do not know what to call you?" she spoke, her voice not failing her as she had imagined it would.

"Mrs Coté, miss."

Belle nodded and placed her other hand over the woman's rough palm. She had known her name as it was a vague memory, but she wished to be personally introduced to the maid. This woman's kindness and care meant Belle was indebted to her. Mrs Coté was taken aback by Belle's intimate gesture, and slightly pulled at her hand under Belle's grasp.

"Mrs Coté, you can leave now." The man's voice startled Belle and she snatched her hands back to her chest. She had not heard him approaching and the flush returned to her cheeks. He now wore a pair of plain breaches and he had tucked his shirt under the belt.

"Yes, of course Master Lyon." Mrs Coté tilted her head, picked up the tray and left but not before glancing back at the young woman, a strange look of concern flashing across her brow.

"Monsieur Lyon," Belle enquired, using the name the maid had just used for her master. She had never been alone with a man before and she could not bring her gaze to meet his.

"Please call me Nicholas, Mademoiselle?" There was a prolonged silence as he waited for her to tell him her name.

"Annabelle," her answer was clipped, hitting off the inside of her teeth.

"Belle?" he asked, his confidence in using her nickname felt uncomfortable, but she did not feel threatened. She felt like her was teasing her, an intimacy she was unsure of. His demeanour was friendly, in away he was how Belle had always imagined a brother would be, authoritative yet teasing.

Nicholas cleared his throat, making Belle look up at his figure in the doorway.

"Oh, I am sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. I wanted to thank you. For saving my life. I shall be out of you way as soon as I am able."

"No!" Belle jumped at his raised voice. "Sorry what I meant..." He sighed and walked towards the bed. "You can stay as long as you need, Belle."

"That is very kind of you Monsieur Lyon, but I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Well if it makes it any easier I insist."

He stood awkwardly beside the bed, his eyes stern and concentrating on her with a deep concentration.

"Belle." He stopped and sat on the chair next to the bed. "We found a wreckage, there were two bodies in running distance from where I found you." He could not rest his gaze on Belle's face, so he ran them along the bulge in the bed, where her legs were stretched out. She moved her face away squeezing her eyes to the ceiling, trying her best to hold herself together.

"Yes. It was Pascal our driver and... my father."

Nicholas's body tensed, his back rigged in the lounge chair. She felt his shock at her words and she could feel how her cowardice was obvious in her voice. A daughter who abandoned her dying father was worth nothing in the eyes of a man such as Nicholas. She turned her body away from him, she had done nothing to deserve the benevolence he was showing to her.

"I am so sorry. If it means anything I know what you are going through."

When Belle finally found the strength, she looked back at the young nobleman. Yet, she found that her modesty had not been needed. His gaze had not even been on her, his eyes were looking out at the hallway. He appeared lost in his own mind, his nose flaring above his short moustache. Grey hairs speckled his dark hair and his side burns framed a square jaw. Belle felt more confident in studying the man's face when his gaze was not on her. In fact, Belle had never studied any man's face. She was surprised by the harshness and lines that cut into his youthful skin. Belle could not shake off his handsomeness and she wondered what the girls back home would think of him. A man from a romance novel.

"What would you like me to do with your father's body?" He asked still looking away. This dragged Belle back to reality and her thoughts of romance novels collapsed.

"I suppose the family crypt, but." Belle sighed. She didn't want to tell Nicholas her name. She was an unmarried woman who had no dowry and she was a social disgrace. She had no wish to lie to the man who had saved her, but she knew she needed to protect her reputation, if not for her own sake but to honour her father's memory.

"My name is Annabelle Novacek, my father was André Novacek...we were heading for our home in the country. Father had been feeling unwell and the doctor advised us to retreat from the city." Belle took two short breaths; the memories of her father were too painful.

"Novacek family. I know you sister...Adele." He shook his head, the thoughts of a beautiful blonde woman with a high-pitched laugh must have entered his mind. Now he knew who Belle he would certainly see the personality difference between her and her sister.

"Oh" she replied, Belle could not look at him, the name of her sister was no comfort to her.

Would her sisters take her in? What would happen to her father's money? Most likely it would be passed on to Alisha's new baby boy – what was left of the fortune anyway. The house in Paris where then girls had grown up would most likely be sold the items pawned and lost. The thought sickened her.

Then the monster filled her mind, how could she be worrying about such trivial things when she had seen the devil.

"What was it?" Belle asked Nicholas, her eyes concentrated on the small scar she could see peeping out from under his hairline.

"What?" He turned his head back to receive Belle's stare.

"The monster that killed my father." Belle kept her voice low, but anger laced her words as she spat them out. Nicholas's bit his teeth, and he slowly answered her question.

"You shouldn't have come through Chartres. We are plagued with a beast, a colossal black creature. Many people say it has the mind of a man, for its killings are calculated and lethal. The monster killed my father and I wasn't even here."

He glared at Belle, his hand in a fist around the arm of his chair. He sighed and took in a deep breath.

"Listen, you may borrow some of my sister's clothes, she isn't here at the moment, and I am sure she won't mind. When you are ready, we can talk about staying here, or writing to your sister, but right now you need to rest."

He stiffly stood up and stamped out of the room; his hands in fists, the mention of the monster had changed him. Belle pulled the sheets around her shoulders and lay down deeper into the bed. The coldness he had had talked about his father's death had frightened her. Belle felt a prang of guilt, she should not have mentioned the devil's apparition. She just could not remove the glowing red eyes, the embers of hell that bore into her soul, she could not forget it and it was slowly killing her.

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So this is a fairly quiet chapter, the other two have been quite action filled. I hope it wasn't a disappointment and you enjoyed reading it. Votes and comments are always appreciated and any problems you spot do tell me. Thanks ^_^

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