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Introduction:

Things are coming to a head...
Summer gave way to autumn and The Beast’s attitude towards Rose slowly mellowed, although the moments of genuine cordiality between them never quite returned. He made awkward conversation, took occasional walks with her in the garden, and started sitting beside her again during her reading lessons, which now focused on a book called The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless. Even now though, he would often depart her company with sudden urgency. Rose noted that he did this not only when his hunger or anger seemed to be emerging, but also when their conversation became livelier or friendlier. She understood why he was being careful to control himself, but it was a mystery why he would not allow their friendship to fully heal.

Once they had settled into this new rhythm, Rose resolved to put the second phase of her plan into action. If she was to change the way The Beast viewed her she had to show him that she could be a refined lady. To that end she had been working to alter the gowns The Beast had given her so that they would fit her petite frame, and one evening she arriving in the dining room dressed for the occasion.

“Good evening,” she greeted him, suppressing her shyness and attempting to project an aura of demure reserve.

“Good evening,” he replied solemnly. “That dress suits you very well. I am glad that you liked it enough to give it the benefit of your talent as a seamstress.”

“Well I just thought it was high time I started dressing as a lady rather than a common girl,” said Rose. “I don’t want to give the wrong impression, after all.”

The Beast responded only with a small, sceptical hum, and paused to take a couple of mouthfuls of his venison bourguinon. “I wouldn’t mind some help in the orchard tomorrow,” he said. “Can I count on your aid in the name of bringing some fruit into the house?” And with that he steered the conversation to other subjects, leaving Rose feeling like she had been subtly rebuked for something.

After that, Rose abandoned her attempt to put on airs, which she guessed had been the cause of The Beast’s displeasure. She was nonetheless careful to use her best manners on all occasions, and took to finishing her cleaning a little earlier so that she could change into a gown before The Beast returned from his gardening. She vowed that he would never again see her in clothes that did not convey elegance and poise. For a little while, things continued as they had done. The Beast occasionally commented politely on her attire, but the gowns did not seem to be having a dramatic impact. Determined to play the long game, Rose watched carefully for signs of progress.

One afternoon after her lesson, Rose made another attempt to fill her time by reading. The Beast seemed almost religious in his conviction that it was among life’s great pleasures, but Betsy Thoughtless was failing to win her over. It was considerably less prudish and simple than Goody Two Shoes, but she still couldn’t help feeling that moral lessons were not the most interesting thing a novel could focus on. Remembering her previous failure to find an interesting book in the library, she looked for a volume that seemed relatively new, and relatively slim. It did not take her long to find a likely candidate: Pride and Prejudice, by Miss Jane Austen. Sitting down at the library’s reading desk she opened it up and began to read. As she turned the pages, she did not even realise how thoroughly she was losing herself in the world of manners, intrigue and romance the book presented. It felt like no time at all had passed before the chiming of the clock let her know it was time for dinner.

For the first time in quite a while, Rose was impatient to finish dinner, but she forced herself to maintain her dignity and delicacy, as she knew a proper lady should. Upon finishing, she asked to be excused, although it was customary for her and The Beast to talk after dinner. He raised an eyebrow, but assented, and she rushed to the library to retrieve Miss Austen’s tale and bear it back to her room like a stolen treasure. She read avidly into the night, despite finding the candle that lit her room less than satisfactory. Tomorrow, she decided, she would remain in the library, where there were full candelabras. Eventually her candle began to gutter, and she snuffed it out before drifting off to sleep, still thinking about the adventures of Austen’s heroine, the clever Miss Elizabeth Bennett.

In the morning she was woken by The Beast knocking on her door with breakfast. Sitting up bleary eyed, she bid him enter. The Beast came in and averted his eyes, almost dropping her egg. She hastily pulled up the bedclothes over her shift to preserve her modesty, blinking to clear away the sleep.

“A late night?” asked The Beast with a half-smile, setting down the plate.

“Mmm, yes sorry,” she replied smacking her lips. “Thank you for the egg.”

“You are most welcome my lady,” replied The Beast fondly. “Have a fine morning.”

Rose smiled to herself as The Beast left. He had never called her ‘my lady’ before. Maybe her plan was working.

She spent the morning reading, and again lost track of time. When the clock struck two she realised that she should get dressed. It would not do to keep The Beast waiting for their lesson, even if her morning’s activity suggested it had become redundant. After Pride and Prejudice it was difficult to muster enthusiasm for Betsy Thoughtless. The book had had some interestingly risqué moments in its first section, but it now seemed to be driving tediously towards a predictable conclusion in which Betsy, having left her violent and abusive husband, would trade her new-found freedom for a life with her morally good and utterly boring first love. She could see that there was much to be praised in the book, but compared to the social intrigue and coded lust of Miss Austen’s work it left her cold.

Reading the book out loud, she found her mind wandering. The Beast was sat as close to her as he ever got these days. If she concentrated, she could smell a faintly animal musk from him. She imagined running her hand over his black fur…

“Rose, are you all right?” he asked. She realised she had stopped reading.

“Yes, sorry, just a little tired.”

“Well, maybe we should call it a day for today and you can take a little nap.”

“That sounds agreeable, thank you.” She looked up at him and smiled. She remembered the horror she had felt when she had first seen him. Now his features were familiar to her, she found him — not handsome exactly, but certainly admirable.

“Very well,” he said. “I shall wake you when dinner is ready.” He stood up and ruffled her hair with an immense hand before leaving. Rose grinned as she watched him go through the wildly criss-crossed strands of hair that suddenly hung over her face.

Of course, she did not plan to use the extra time to sleep. Mr Wickham’s scandalous behaviour was coming to a head, and she needed to find out what would come of it. However, when The Beast knocked on her door to let her know it was dinner time it startled her awake. The book lay open on her pillow beside her. Checking that she had not accidently damaged it, she marked her place and smoothed her gown before hurrying to dinner.

After another pleasant meal with The Beast, she returned to the library for her evening’s reading. As she devoured chapter after chapter, night fell and her candles burned down to stubs. Then she heard the low rumble of The Beast clearing his throat behind her.

“Suddenly the mystery of your tiredness is solved,” he observed dryly. “Let’s see what has so taken your fancy that you prefer it to your rest… ah, Pride and Prejudice, of course. Fantasising about your own Mr Darcy I take it?”

Rose smiled wryly. “I fear Mr Darcy would take little note of one such as myself,” she admitted. “I’ve not the wit of Miss Bennett.”

“Rose,” said The Beast seriously, “I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are both charming and clever, the latter being attested to by the fact that you came here barely literate, and in less than three months you have progressed to reading an entire novel in what appears to be a very short time, judging by the fact that you only adopted your new sleeping pattern yesterday. I say this not to complement you, but because I have taken it upon myself to teach you, and if there is one lesson that is more important than any other it is to know your own value.

“When you return to the world beyond this house, many more gentlemen will pay court to you, the majority of who will see only that you are beautiful. You need to learn that you have a good heart and a keen mind as well as a pretty face, so that you do not waste yourself on a man who is not your equal. Were I to learn that such a thing had come to pass I would consider it my own failure in doing too little to impress this upon you, and I would not forgive myself. So please, I beg of you, do not claim to be unworthy of any man.”

“I shall remember not to,” said Rose, a little stunned.

“See that you do,” said The Beast. “And in the meantime, I believe we should set you a bedtime of 10 o’clock for the foreseeable future. The library will still be here in the morning.”

“Of course you’re right,” said Rose standing. “Good night then.” She gave a small curtsey before turning to leave, managing to supress her smile of elation until her face was hidden from The Beast.
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