XXIII

"A year from now you may wish you had started today." Karen Lamb

----

XXIII.

Peter never knew it was possible for someone to simply vanish off the face of the earth, but Belle had managed to do just that. She was gone. There was no trace of her save for the ribbon and shoe that she had left behind in the garden.

He and Adam had searched all night, taking the main roads and trails all around Ashwood and the neighbouring villages. They didn't see a carriage. They didn't see horses. They didn't see a girl being dragged down the road against her will. They didn't see anything.

They returned to the assembly hall when the sun rose. This was the place where Belle had last been seen, and they hoped that there might be other clues left behind that they had not been able to see the night before.

"Good God, Peter!" cried Adam, as they approached the bench where he and Belle had been sitting last. Adam bent down to collect something off of the ground. He rose with a small rock, about the size of his fist. Half of it was caked in dark, dried blood.

Whatever had been numbing Peter's pain had dulled. It was as though he had taken an imaginary dose of laudanum to help him on his initial search, but it was waning. Peter's headache was terrible, and his balance and coordination were making riding a horse difficult.

That rock was clearly the weapon that had been used by the culprit to incapacitate him.

"Did you hear anyone behind you? Did you see anyone? Do you remember anything now that you are back in the garden?" Adam asked, frowning deeply as he placed the rock down on the bench.

"I don't remember hearing anyone," Peter replied. "I was preoccupied." He had been determined to kiss Belle, to propose to her if she would let him. He had been so determined to do this that he had brought her outside alone. "I didn't consider the risk," Peter hissed, cursing himself. "I didn't think of her safety at all. I was thinking of myself. I wanted to be alone with her and ... and ..." Peter looked around helplessly.

"You weren't to know," Adam said firmly. "How could you have known?"

"I know what is appropriate," Peter spat back. "I know that bringing a woman outside alone is not, and if I was thinking like a gentleman, and not like a stupid lovestruck boy, I would never have put her in this position." He sucked in a staggered breath. "And now she's gone!"

Adam ignored Peter's remarks and continued searching, keeping his eyes low. "Look here," he called, pointing to an area on the ground. "You can see the indents in the grass and the dirt. Someone was being dragged. Belle was being dragged."

Peter could see the tracks in the grass made by Belle's feet as she was dragged towards the direction of the front of the assembly hall. She had to have been taken in and amongst the chaos of the carriages, horses and drivers. But nobody had paid attention to her. She had been smuggled into a carriage or something, and nobody had noticed. How could this happen?

Peter thought that his head might explode with worry.

"What's this?" Adam wondered aloud. He walked over to one of the garden beds, and picked up a bit of paper that had somehow gotten itself wedged in and amongst the foliage. It appeared to be damp with the dew of the morning. "Oh." Adam scoffed.

"What?" asked Peter. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," replied Adam. "I thought it might have been important, but it is just a bit of old newspaper." Looking down at it, he laughed in an irritated tone. "It's that bloody story that was written after Susanna's wedding. Why does this garbage insist on following us around?"

Peter remembered that story. Belle had kept a copy of it, hoping to read it as it referenced her name and her efforts in designing Susanna's dress. Peter remembered her asking him to read it for her, and he could recall the anger and frustration he had felt in reading the utter ignorance that passed for journalism. As Adam crumped the page in his hand, Peter thought for a moment. That story had been printed in a London newspaper. It was not a paper that was delivered to the Ashwood village. The only reason that Ashwood House had a copy of that paper was because it was specially sent for. Peter could remember, quite mockingly, thinking what precious specimens the Beresfords were for needing their newspapers ironed for them. Grace had told him about it when she had worked there as a housemaid.

So, if Belle had held onto that copy of the newspaper, then what on earth was a scrap of it doing in this garden?

"Wait." Peter held out his hand, reaching for the newspaper.

Adam peered at him curiously as he released it from his grasp. Peter held it in his hands, and he could feel the dampness from the night. He smoothed it as best he could, but much of the ink had run, rendering much of the story illegible. However, there was something that had been added. An annotation.

Peter could see that underneath the first mention of Belle's name in the story, someone had underlined it with a line of thick, black ink. In the margin someone had scribbled something. It was smudged ... but it read something like: est-elle votre femme?

Peter did not know what it meant, but he knew it was French. His mind raced with panic as he pondered a thousand different scenarios. But only one made sense. What motivation would an ordinary man have for taking Belle? He thought back to when Belle had told him of her – for want of a better word – husband. She had been so afraid, so terrified, and so completely believing that he still had such a hold over her, such control over her.

Peter had convinced Belle that she was free, that she did not need to be afraid anymore. Who, other than someone connected to her former husband, and her former life, would have the motivation to take Belle?

Peter trembled. He didn't know what he was feeling. It was a combination of fear, panic, guilt, despair and desperation, somehow combined to make a wholly terrified human being. He didn't want to believe it, but it was the only possibility that made any sense.

"Tell me," stressed Peter shakily. "Tell me, do you read French?"

Adam peered at the annotation but shook his head. "No. But Mother does. Peter, you've gone extraordinarily pale. Do you know what's happened? Does this mean something to you?"

"I can't be certain until I know what this says," Peter managed to reply. "But I fear that Belle has been abducted by her former master. The man who forced her to marry him."

***

Peter told Adam as much as he could on the way back to Ashwood House, and Adam reacted as furiously as anyone would having heard the tale. Belle's coercion into marriage at only fourteen years of age was criminal. For too long she had been at the mercy of a madman, and she could well be yet again.

The Beresfords and Denhams were all gathered at Ashwood House, where they had waited all night for news of Belle, and for Peter's return to have his head looked at. The doctor had been summoned, and he, too, had been waiting all night. The family were all still dressed in their ball attire, and nobody looked as though they had slept.

There was a flurry of questions, and Peter could not focus on a single one as his gaze focussed on Cecily. He still had the newspaper page in his hand, and he walked directly up to her, faintly hearing his mother's fussing behind him for the doctor to make him sit down.

"Please, Your Grace. Adam tells me you know how to read French. Please tell me what this says." Peter showed Cecily the page, pointing to the annotation in the margin.

"Be damned that tasteless article," rebuffed Cecily, before she peered closer. She frowned. "Oh, yes, that is French. Est-elle votre femme?" she read. "It says, 'is she your wife?'"

Peter's heart fell like a stone boulder from his chest to his stomach. The weight of which brought him to his knees. As he dropped, he heard Mrs Denham cry out in fright. He could feel someone touching his head, but he paid them no notice. He did not care about it at all.

He could only imagine, or dread, what had happened to result in that newspaper article winding up in that garden? Had someone spotted Belle's name in the paper and sent it to her husband? Had whomever spotted the name come to take Belle to him? Or had her husband received that article and come after Belle himself?

"For God's sake, Peter, you will lie down this moment!" Mrs Denham demanded. "You are no use to Belle half dead!" she accused fearfully. "Doctor, please, help him! His head had been like this all night!"

"He was struck by a rock, Doctor," Adam informed him. "About the size of my hand." Adam made a fist. "He has been unsteady on his feet the last hour or so, but before that he has been well." Adam paused. "Or as well as can be expected in circumstances such as these."

"We don't know why, but often in times of great shock, the body can mask our pain. That does not mean that the ailment has gone, or that a physician should not be summoned. It is just a phenomenon of the body that we are yet to understand," the doctor explained.

Peter could barely concentrate as he was moved to the settee in the drawing room. He did not feel any pain as his head was cleaned and stitched. He blinked and squinted as the doctor held the flame of a candle before his eyes, but otherwise he was numb to his surroundings.

In the distance, Peter was very faintly aware of Adam speaking. He heard Belle's name, and perhaps that was because he wanted to be attuned to it. Perhaps Adam was telling everyone what Peter had told him. Perhaps Adam was telling them all that Belle had been forcibly married, and that one way or another, Belle was now in that man's clutches.

How could this happen? After everything that precious, beautiful girl had been through, how had she fallen victim to this man again? Why was she not allowed her freedom?

Why had Peter failed to protect her?

Belle deserved more than this. She had barely begun to live before her freedom was quite literally snatched away. Peter prayed for a miracle. He would need one to find her and to bring her home safely.

***

Belle was awoken by the same familiar jostle of the carriage, only this time, her head throbbed as though she had been kicked by a horse. It did not take long for her memories to fill the gaps in her pounding head. It might as well have been a horse for the size of the fist that had knocked her unconscious.

She was lying horizontally on the seat, and her eyes first focussed on the floor of the carriage where she spotted Jean's court shoes that were adorned with gaudy gold buckles.

"Did the little mouse enjoy her sleep?"

His tone was mocking, goading, but thoroughly amused, as though he thought this whole predicament was a fun, little game.

Belle had spent her entire life training her eyes down. She never dared to look into the eye of a white man or woman. She was well-practised in subserviency.

But Belle would never be this man's prey. Never again.

Belle looked up.

She stared into the corpse grey irises that had so haunted her nightmares, and she felt the fear deep within her bones. But she felt something else, as well. She felt fire in the core of her belly, fuelling her fight.

Jean grinned, before laughing at her expression. He laughed so hard he made himself cough. He beat himself in the chest with his fist to settle his lungs. "You are so different, but the same, too. You have the same witch eyes, the same black skin ... you are fatter, but I don't mind."

Belle's jaw locked. He had a nerve to call her fat when he ate for twelve while the people who laboured for him starved. Belle was eating properly now. She was healthy.

"But you have a spirit now that you never had before. I rather like it." If Belle did not know him better, she would have said that he sounded like he admired her. But Belle did know better. She knew that Jean loved feeling powerful, and nothing would make him feel more powerful that beating the spirit out of a woman.

Belle was determined to hold onto her spirit, her fire, no matter how many punches he threw at her.

"You have changed, too," Belle managed to spit back.

Jean arched an eyebrow. "I have? How so?"

"I did not think it was possible for you to get any uglier."

Jean threw his head back and laughed as Belle's eyes widened at her own gall. She had mocked the devil to his face, and he laughed. And as he did, he moved with quicker agility than a man of his size ought to have as he grabbed a fistful of her hair.

Belle yelped in pain as she was wrenched across the carriage by her scalp, it burning under his force.

"Oh, darling, when I am through with you, you will wish you had never been born."

----

Hope you enjoyed it ---- welllll, as much as you could ;)

Soooo I need to be really mean next week. I have to work unfortunately! It sucks, but I have to attend this week long PD (professional development) seminar which means I won't be able to update. I am also going on holiday next Saturday overseas!! (pending me not getting freaking covid at my PD next week). I won't tell you where I'm going until I get there as I don't want to jinx it.

But I decided to take a holiday by myself to get over everything that happened in 2021. I am going to sit in peace and quiet by myself and relax (which is something I'm terrible at). I will be taking my laptop with me and I intend to write. So you will hopefully be getting some chapters from faraway!

If you're not already, follow me on Instagram @littlelo62 to see where I go!

I am a terrible holiday companion. I plan out every day meticulously. I have a saying, if you're not doing 20,000 steps a day, you're not on holiday. I want to see absolutely everything so let's go go GO!

But not this holiday. I will be sitting and drinking cocktails and enjoying nobody needing anything from me or asking me to do something for them ... just me and my mending heart.

So of course I intend to bring you guys along with me x

I had a pretty good time in Adelaide this week, though. My grandparents were surprised to see me, and it took them a few seconds to recognise me as it's been two years (thanks covid!) since I've seen them. My flights were ridiculous. I live in Melbourne if you didn't know, and Adelaide is a 1 hour flight away. Because all the airline staff have covid or are exposed (thanks omicron), so many flights are being cancelled. I had to fly to Sydney (1 hour in the opposite direction), wait there for two hours, before flying from Sydney to Adelaide, which was a two hour flight lol. So on Tuesday I was in three states in one day hahaha. I took a photo of the Sydney Harbour Bridge on my descent down and sent it to my dad to say hi, and apparently I captured his building in the photo lol.

In other news, I booked my booster appointment! Get vaccinated and stay safe, friends xx

I'll speak to you soon with a cocktail in my hand! Send me covid free vibes!

Vote and comment!