A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 12ioaniteMarch 28 2013, 21:42:20 UTC
As Henri had promised, Belle started accompanying him to the city again, this time with Émile in tow. He seemed as awed by the city as she was, and laughed and waved at everything they passed. When he got a little older, he asked an endless stream of questions from the moment they spotted the first buildings to the moment he was tucked into bed. Passerby seemed charmed by him, and would sometimes chime in to answer his questions. He might have been a handful, but Belle and Henri were delighted by his inquisitive mind. “Perhaps he will be a great scholar,” Henri mused one night, “And answer some of the world’s mysteries.”
“Or perhaps he will be an inventor like Papa,” Belle said, stroking her son’s hair as he slept, “and create something that will change the world."
When Émile was three, Belle once again discovered she was pregnant. Although he was a little bewildered by the concept, he seemed delighted to have a new playmate. He wasn’t even all that put-out by the fact that he and Belle couldn’t go to the city for a while, content to stay at home and ask her questions about the baby (although he fortunately managed to avoid the awkward question of how the baby had come to be in the first place). And when little Mirelle was born, he actually seemed happy that he had a sister. “Now we’ll be able to play fairy tales!” he said happily, and Henri laughed and ruffled his hair.
Thus it all began again-the foreign language lullabies, constantly being read to, journeys to the city-only now Émile was there to help. While he had to be taught that babies had less energy than children, he was allowed to come to Mirelle’s crib and talk at her in various languages, or sit quietly as Belle read to both of them. In this way, Mirelle grew up also able to understand several languages, and although her first word was the more conventional “Maman”, she still seemed eager to be read to and learn new words. She wasn’t as inquisitive as her brother, but she still looked around with interested eyes at everything. She was also more shy, shrinking behind her parents legs whenever someone spoke to her, but Henri tried his best to get her to open up a little more.
(Belle did learn one new interesting fact about her husband in the course of all this. As Mirelle’s hair grew in, it came out reddish-brown instead of pure brown like Émile’s. Henri acknowledged that yes, he had once had a full head of red hair. She tried to imagine it, and decided that she quite liked the image.)
As the children grew up, life in the bookshop became quite pleasant indeed. The children were allowed to come down and help in the bookshop, putting books away and carefully cleaning the floor. Dinnertime was often spent chatting in multiple languages, except for the days when they had dinner with her father, when they returned to French. Her father doted on the children, and brought them toys he’d made himself or sweets he’d bought in the market. He promised them both that they could visit his workshop once they were a little older, and they both seemed quite excited at the prospect. Once they were old enough to start attending school, they took to it happily, although Émile seemed disappointed that they weren’t learning other languages. Although both children seemed happy enough to stay at home, work on their lessons, and play their little games, Henri encouraged them to go out and play with the other children. “They may have new ideas for games to play,” he said, “and perhaps you can teach them some of your own. You can’t learn everything from books, you know.”
Mirelle was a little more hesitant about it, but as long as Émile was nearby, she was willing to try. While they rarely brought friends home to the bookshop, they did spend a little more time outdoors, play-acting with the other children by the fountain in summer and wrestling in the snow in wintertime. Henri seemed satisfied with this, and Belle was glad that they were happy.
A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 13ioaniteMarch 28 2013, 21:43:59 UTC
As for Henri and Belle, their relationship remained warm and studious. Belle was fully fluent in the various languages now, so there were no more lessons, but still plenty of chance to practice them. There was still a constant stream of books coming in, so she had plenty to read in her spare time. And although it wasn’t as frequent as it had been early in their marriage, they did, eventually, manage to work their way through every page in the book. It might have been part of the provincial life, but it felt so much more fulfilling. There was no need to dream of the future; enjoying each moment of the present was enough for her.
Émile was thirteen, Mirelle was ten, and Belle was thirty-two when Henri went to bed one night and never woke up. In the back of her mind, Belle had known that he would pass long before she did, but it was still a shock. Although he wasn’t as strong or energetic as he used to be, he was in good health and spirits. The doctor who examined him assured her that he had died peacefully in his sleep, with no pain, but that only provided her with a small comfort. If she hadn’t had Émile and Mirelle to think about, she was sure she would have shut herself up in the shop and been unable to come out. As it was, she did her best to comfort her children.
A surprising number of people came out for the funeral. Gaston appeared briefly to pay his respects, but disappeared almost as soon as he arrived. Belle hadn’t been keeping track of him, and he certainly hadn’t ever come round to the shop, but according to her father, he had eventually married one of his blonde hangers-on, and she had produced five children, four boys and one girl. (Of course, gossip being what it was, a few people couldn’t help but notice that the other two girls also had a black-haired son each, when their husbands had brown hair.) Other than him, however, everyone had wonderful things to say about Henri. Although business had never been brisk, it seemed he’d had an impact on the town nevertheless. Hearing the stories made tears come to Belle’s eyes, but it also shook her out of her numbness a little. She realized that he had made an impact on her life as well, and he wouldn’t want her to spend all her time in mourning. So as painful as it was to wake up and realize he wasn’t there, she would do her best to carry on.
Initially, she had thought that she would continue on at the shop, at least until Émile was old enough to look for a profession (with another painful stab at her heart, she realized that her father would have passed on by that time), at which point she would sell the shop and move to the city with Mirelle, which would give them more opportunities. But all that changed when, a week after the funeral, the solicitor came by to read the will to her.
Belle had managed the ledgers for the store, of course, so she knew that they had enough money to keep the store open and to comfortable take care of four people, but the amount the solicitor read out was positively astounding. It wasn’t enough to qualify her for the landed gentry, but it was enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her days, with enough left over to provide a dowry for Mirelle and a small starting sum for Émile. “There must be some mistake…” she said weakly.
“No mistake,” the solicitor said, producing a sealed letter and handing it to her, “I was instructed to give this to you as well.” Belle immediately ripped open the letter and saw Henri’s handwriting, shaky but legible; it had probably been written when the children were still in single digits.
A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 14ioaniteMarch 28 2013, 21:44:48 UTC
My dearest Belle, No doubt you have been taken aback by the sum the solicitor has read out to you. Rest assured, it is very real. I never mentioned it because I felt no need for it. We were all quite happy where we were, and, if I’m honest, I wished this to be one last surprise for you, and perhaps a comfort after I was gone. I told you several tales of my youth and my travels through Europe. However, I did not just travel by foot. I eventually took on a job with a merchant, partially for the money, but mostly so I could travel the world. That is how I came to learn Chinese-I was always surprised that you never asked. I worked as a merchant for most of my adult life, and saved my money carefully. When I was too old to continue the work, I had a fine sum to my name. I decided to retire to this village and open a bookshop, which would provide a little income, but would mostly give me a chance to broaden the horizons of the villagers. I got more than I expected from you. I have left the shop, the books therein, my few possessions, and all my money to you and the children. It has sat idle long enough, and my wish is that you, Émile, and Mirelle spend it how you see fit. While I’m sure some of it will go towards education and dowries, I hope you can find more pleasurable uses for it. Above all, I hope at least a portion of it is spent on travel. I taught you all those languages in the hopes that you would strike out on your own, taking advantage of your widowhood to move about freely without need of a chaperone. No doubt you are still quite young-you have many traveling days ahead of you. Go where you will and do what you will, but please, have the adventures you read about in books. Perhaps you can convince the children to join you. Although I know our marriage was not a love match, I was always fond of you, and you were a wonderful wife and an excellent mother. I could not have asked for anyone better. I can only hope that I was as good a husband and father. Be well, Belle. Look after the children until they’re old enough to look after themselves, and enjoy all that life has to offer. If there is such a thing as an afterlife, rest assured that I am watching over you.
With the tenderest affection, Henri Roland
Belle sat staring down at the letter, reading it over and over again. It wasn’t until her vision blurred that she realized tears were running down her face. She managed to thank the solicitor and send him on his way. Then she put her head down on the desk and cried, her first real, proper cry since Henri’s death.
Émile came in when he heard the door close. “Maman! What is it?”
Wordlessly, she handed him the letter. Even through her tears, she could hear him gasp. “Is this true?”
She nodded. “What…what are you going to do with it?”
“Give me a minute, Émile. Show the letter to your sister. I’ll be upstairs presently, and then we can talk about it.” Belle choked out. Émile carefully laid a hand on her shoulder, and then she heard his footsteps moving off. She cried until there were no tears left. Then she straightened up decisively, wiped her eyes, and headed upstairs.
Émile and Mirelle were waiting for her, looking at her with wide-eyes. She sat down in a chair, and they instinctively came to sit on the floor beside her, heads resting on her knees. Smiling, Belle started to stroke their hair. “Well, you’ve read the letter. And I think it would be doing your father a disservice if we didn’t at least try to do as he asked. But Mirelle should finish her schooling first, and we need to think about the long-term future. Do either of you have any suggestions?”
They talked long into the night, looking up things in books and making calculations. By the time the sky started to brighten, they had worked out a rudimentary plan. Belle rose from the table and embraced her children tightly. Without a word being spoken, they all headed into the main bedroom and prepared for bed. It was a bit of a tight fit-Émile had grown quite tall-but it felt right for them to share the bed as a family.
A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 15 (final part)ioaniteMarch 28 2013, 21:45:52 UTC
“Hurry up, Émile!” Mirelle called out, clapping a hand to her hat as a gust of wind flew past, “We don’t want to arrive too late for the market to close!”
Émile came over to the wagon, a touch of red in his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I was just saying goodbye to Claudine.”
“I knew you were sweet on her!” Mirelle teased, pinching her brother’s arm, “Perhaps we should have invited her along.”
“Children…” Belle admonished gently, climbing into the wagon and gathering up the reins, “Let’s not start off this trip by bickering. There will be plenty of time for that in the coming months, after all.”
“Sorry, Maman,” Mirelle said, climbing into the back of the wagon, “It’s nerves.”
Émile sat beside his mother. “Do you want me to take the reins?”
“I can manage,” Belle assured him, “Besides, I feel I owe it to the horses to guide them over the familiar terrain one last time. Now, are we sure we’ve got everything? Trunks?”
“All five of them.” Mirelle acknowledged.
“Necessary Papers?”
“Right here.”
“Books?”
Mirelle laughed. “Yes. And even if we had left some behind, I don’t think it would have mattered much.”
“And have we said goodbye to everyone?”
“Yes,” Émile said, “I even made sure to put flowers on Papa and Grandpapa’s graves.”
“Me too.” Mirelle said. Belle smiled, for she had done the same thing herself. “Then I think we’re ready.” She clicked to the horses and they set off, moving at a slightly slower pace due to the weight of the cart.
It had all been arranged. The bookstore had been sold to a nice young man who was the son of the schoolteacher, who promised to take good care of it. When they got into the city, they would sell the horses and cart for a fair price, and spend a night at the inn. The next day, they would board a carriage bound for the nearest port. They had already booked passage on a ship headed towards Greece, although they weren’t sure that would be their final destination. It all depended what caught their eyes. The books were there to pass the time, and also to use for trade if it came to that.
As the horses reached the outskirts of town, Belle took one last look at the town she’d spent her whole life in up to now. She knew she’d miss it, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back to it. But the great wide somewhere she’d once dreamed of was calling out to her louder than ever, and she would be a fool if she didn’t answer back. With a smile and nod, she turned her eyes back to the road, looking forward to the moment when her eyes lit on unfamiliar ground.
Re: A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 15 (final part)little_elfieMarch 29 2013, 01:45:20 UTC
Oh wow, I was thinking of this prompt just the other day, always hoped someone would fill it and I couldn't be happier with your take on it. Such a lovely, poignant piece! Kudos!
Re: A Beneficial Arrangement, Part 15 (final part)ioaniteDecember 31 2013, 14:58:04 UTC
I know it's been a few months since you posted this, but I finally got an Ao3 account and uploaded all my Disney fills. I'm there under the same username. I tried to PM you about it but wasn't able to. I really hope you see this.
“Or perhaps he will be an inventor like Papa,” Belle said, stroking her son’s hair as he slept, “and create something that will change the world."
When Émile was three, Belle once again discovered she was pregnant. Although he was a little bewildered by the concept, he seemed delighted to have a new playmate. He wasn’t even all that put-out by the fact that he and Belle couldn’t go to the city for a while, content to stay at home and ask her questions about the baby (although he fortunately managed to avoid the awkward question of how the baby had come to be in the first place). And when little Mirelle was born, he actually seemed happy that he had a sister. “Now we’ll be able to play fairy tales!” he said happily, and Henri laughed and ruffled his hair.
Thus it all began again-the foreign language lullabies, constantly being read to, journeys to the city-only now Émile was there to help. While he had to be taught that babies had less energy than children, he was allowed to come to Mirelle’s crib and talk at her in various languages, or sit quietly as Belle read to both of them. In this way, Mirelle grew up also able to understand several languages, and although her first word was the more conventional “Maman”, she still seemed eager to be read to and learn new words. She wasn’t as inquisitive as her brother, but she still looked around with interested eyes at everything. She was also more shy, shrinking behind her parents legs whenever someone spoke to her, but Henri tried his best to get her to open up a little more.
(Belle did learn one new interesting fact about her husband in the course of all this. As Mirelle’s hair grew in, it came out reddish-brown instead of pure brown like Émile’s. Henri acknowledged that yes, he had once had a full head of red hair. She tried to imagine it, and decided that she quite liked the image.)
As the children grew up, life in the bookshop became quite pleasant indeed. The children were allowed to come down and help in the bookshop, putting books away and carefully cleaning the floor. Dinnertime was often spent chatting in multiple languages, except for the days when they had dinner with her father, when they returned to French. Her father doted on the children, and brought them toys he’d made himself or sweets he’d bought in the market. He promised them both that they could visit his workshop once they were a little older, and they both seemed quite excited at the prospect. Once they were old enough to start attending school, they took to it happily, although Émile seemed disappointed that they weren’t learning other languages. Although both children seemed happy enough to stay at home, work on their lessons, and play their little games, Henri encouraged them to go out and play with the other children. “They may have new ideas for games to play,” he said, “and perhaps you can teach them some of your own. You can’t learn everything from books, you know.”
Mirelle was a little more hesitant about it, but as long as Émile was nearby, she was willing to try. While they rarely brought friends home to the bookshop, they did spend a little more time outdoors, play-acting with the other children by the fountain in summer and wrestling in the snow in wintertime. Henri seemed satisfied with this, and Belle was glad that they were happy.
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Émile was thirteen, Mirelle was ten, and Belle was thirty-two when Henri went to bed one night and never woke up. In the back of her mind, Belle had known that he would pass long before she did, but it was still a shock. Although he wasn’t as strong or energetic as he used to be, he was in good health and spirits. The doctor who examined him assured her that he had died peacefully in his sleep, with no pain, but that only provided her with a small comfort. If she hadn’t had Émile and Mirelle to think about, she was sure she would have shut herself up in the shop and been unable to come out. As it was, she did her best to comfort her children.
A surprising number of people came out for the funeral. Gaston appeared briefly to pay his respects, but disappeared almost as soon as he arrived. Belle hadn’t been keeping track of him, and he certainly hadn’t ever come round to the shop, but according to her father, he had eventually married one of his blonde hangers-on, and she had produced five children, four boys and one girl. (Of course, gossip being what it was, a few people couldn’t help but notice that the other two girls also had a black-haired son each, when their husbands had brown hair.) Other than him, however, everyone had wonderful things to say about Henri. Although business had never been brisk, it seemed he’d had an impact on the town nevertheless. Hearing the stories made tears come to Belle’s eyes, but it also shook her out of her numbness a little. She realized that he had made an impact on her life as well, and he wouldn’t want her to spend all her time in mourning. So as painful as it was to wake up and realize he wasn’t there, she would do her best to carry on.
Initially, she had thought that she would continue on at the shop, at least until Émile was old enough to look for a profession (with another painful stab at her heart, she realized that her father would have passed on by that time), at which point she would sell the shop and move to the city with Mirelle, which would give them more opportunities. But all that changed when, a week after the funeral, the solicitor came by to read the will to her.
Belle had managed the ledgers for the store, of course, so she knew that they had enough money to keep the store open and to comfortable take care of four people, but the amount the solicitor read out was positively astounding. It wasn’t enough to qualify her for the landed gentry, but it was enough for her to live comfortably for the rest of her days, with enough left over to provide a dowry for Mirelle and a small starting sum for Émile. “There must be some mistake…” she said weakly.
“No mistake,” the solicitor said, producing a sealed letter and handing it to her, “I was instructed to give this to you as well.” Belle immediately ripped open the letter and saw Henri’s handwriting, shaky but legible; it had probably been written when the children were still in single digits.
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My dearest Belle,
No doubt you have been taken aback by the sum the solicitor has read out to you. Rest assured, it is very real. I never mentioned it because I felt no need for it. We were all quite happy where we were, and, if I’m honest, I wished this to be one last surprise for you, and perhaps a comfort after I was gone.
I told you several tales of my youth and my travels through Europe. However, I did not just travel by foot. I eventually took on a job with a merchant, partially for the money, but mostly so I could travel the world. That is how I came to learn Chinese-I was always surprised that you never asked. I worked as a merchant for most of my adult life, and saved my money carefully. When I was too old to continue the work, I had a fine sum to my name. I decided to retire to this village and open a bookshop, which would provide a little income, but would mostly give me a chance to broaden the horizons of the villagers. I got more than I expected from you.
I have left the shop, the books therein, my few possessions, and all my money to you and the children. It has sat idle long enough, and my wish is that you, Émile, and Mirelle spend it how you see fit. While I’m sure some of it will go towards education and dowries, I hope you can find more pleasurable uses for it. Above all, I hope at least a portion of it is spent on travel. I taught you all those languages in the hopes that you would strike out on your own, taking advantage of your widowhood to move about freely without need of a chaperone. No doubt you are still quite young-you have many traveling days ahead of you. Go where you will and do what you will, but please, have the adventures you read about in books. Perhaps you can convince the children to join you.
Although I know our marriage was not a love match, I was always fond of you, and you were a wonderful wife and an excellent mother. I could not have asked for anyone better. I can only hope that I was as good a husband and father.
Be well, Belle. Look after the children until they’re old enough to look after themselves, and enjoy all that life has to offer. If there is such a thing as an afterlife, rest assured that I am watching over you.
With the tenderest affection,
Henri Roland
Belle sat staring down at the letter, reading it over and over again. It wasn’t until her vision blurred that she realized tears were running down her face. She managed to thank the solicitor and send him on his way. Then she put her head down on the desk and cried, her first real, proper cry since Henri’s death.
Émile came in when he heard the door close. “Maman! What is it?”
Wordlessly, she handed him the letter. Even through her tears, she could hear him gasp. “Is this true?”
She nodded. “What…what are you going to do with it?”
“Give me a minute, Émile. Show the letter to your sister. I’ll be upstairs presently, and then we can talk about it.” Belle choked out. Émile carefully laid a hand on her shoulder, and then she heard his footsteps moving off. She cried until there were no tears left. Then she straightened up decisively, wiped her eyes, and headed upstairs.
Émile and Mirelle were waiting for her, looking at her with wide-eyes. She sat down in a chair, and they instinctively came to sit on the floor beside her, heads resting on her knees. Smiling, Belle started to stroke their hair. “Well, you’ve read the letter. And I think it would be doing your father a disservice if we didn’t at least try to do as he asked. But Mirelle should finish her schooling first, and we need to think about the long-term future. Do either of you have any suggestions?”
They talked long into the night, looking up things in books and making calculations. By the time the sky started to brighten, they had worked out a rudimentary plan. Belle rose from the table and embraced her children tightly. Without a word being spoken, they all headed into the main bedroom and prepared for bed. It was a bit of a tight fit-Émile had grown quite tall-but it felt right for them to share the bed as a family.
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Émile came over to the wagon, a touch of red in his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I was just saying goodbye to Claudine.”
“I knew you were sweet on her!” Mirelle teased, pinching her brother’s arm, “Perhaps we should have invited her along.”
“Children…” Belle admonished gently, climbing into the wagon and gathering up the reins, “Let’s not start off this trip by bickering. There will be plenty of time for that in the coming months, after all.”
“Sorry, Maman,” Mirelle said, climbing into the back of the wagon, “It’s nerves.”
Émile sat beside his mother. “Do you want me to take the reins?”
“I can manage,” Belle assured him, “Besides, I feel I owe it to the horses to guide them over the familiar terrain one last time. Now, are we sure we’ve got everything? Trunks?”
“All five of them.” Mirelle acknowledged.
“Necessary Papers?”
“Right here.”
“Books?”
Mirelle laughed. “Yes. And even if we had left some behind, I don’t think it would have mattered much.”
“And have we said goodbye to everyone?”
“Yes,” Émile said, “I even made sure to put flowers on Papa and Grandpapa’s graves.”
“Me too.” Mirelle said. Belle smiled, for she had done the same thing herself. “Then I think we’re ready.” She clicked to the horses and they set off, moving at a slightly slower pace due to the weight of the cart.
It had all been arranged. The bookstore had been sold to a nice young man who was the son of the schoolteacher, who promised to take good care of it. When they got into the city, they would sell the horses and cart for a fair price, and spend a night at the inn. The next day, they would board a carriage bound for the nearest port. They had already booked passage on a ship headed towards Greece, although they weren’t sure that would be their final destination. It all depended what caught their eyes. The books were there to pass the time, and also to use for trade if it came to that.
As the horses reached the outskirts of town, Belle took one last look at the town she’d spent her whole life in up to now. She knew she’d miss it, and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back to it. But the great wide somewhere she’d once dreamed of was calling out to her louder than ever, and she would be a fool if she didn’t answer back. With a smile and nod, she turned her eyes back to the road, looking forward to the moment when her eyes lit on unfamiliar ground.
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Thank you for the compliments!
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Thank you once again for your interest in my fic!
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