Beauty And The Beast

By Alyson L

Part 1

Posted on Sunday, 12 October 2003

Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a rich and generous gentleman who owned lands and farms and properties beyond imagination. He was not a king, only a good man who took diligent care of all his concerns. The people in his keeping were very fond of him, and he and they prospered together.

This gentleman had a beautiful, elegant wife and two children of whom he was very proud. His wife was beloved for her gentleness and kindness, and his youngest, a daughter, was admired for her beauty and good nature. His eldest, a son, was tutored carefully in all the facets of caring for the lands and the tenants, and taught to be a just and conscientious master.

Alas, both the generous gentleman and his kind wife departed this world too young; too young the burdens of leadership and duty descended onto their son. He was fair and just, as his father taught him to be. The tenants under his care had nothing specific to complain about, but they missed the kindness and friendship they had shared with his father. This young man seemed, instead, rather...proud. He appeared to think himself above them and their petty, day-to-day endeavors and interests. He was aloof rather than familiar, reserved rather than open.

One stormy evening a strong knock sounded on the young man's door. Several minutes later a servant appeared in his library. "Excuse me, sir, but one of our neighbors was caught in the storm. She is soaking wet and requests shelter until the storm passes."

The young man was tired from the events of the day and worn from the excess of cares that burdened his shoulders; he was, therefore, not in a charitable mood. "If she is a neighbor, why did she come to my home rather than moving on to hers?" he questioned tersely.

The old, faithful servant cleared his throat. "Your lands are vast, sir, and she lives a distance from here. The night is so cold and wet."

"But I already have guests," the young master whined. "I am already host to friends; must I host the neighbors as well?"

Had the young gentleman been paying attention, he would have noted the disapproval on the servant's face. "Your house is large, sir; you certainly have room for another. You will likely not even know she is here."

"Very well, then," he said grumpily, "she may stay." But he did not show her the same hospitality given to his friends. She stayed in a small room meant for servants and was not invited to the table for breakfast with her host. She had heard his reluctance to allow her to stay the evening before, and was made very aware of his urgency for her to leave the next morning due to the steady stream of maids he sent to her room to assist in hastening her departure.

The unwanted guest descended the stairs the same moment the young man passed through the foyer. It was the first time he glimpsed her and he was astounded to see, not a weathered farm laborer, but an elegant young lady, dressed more richly than his own guests. Before he had a chance to bow and introduce himself, she addressed him: "Fitzwilliam Darcy, you erroneously believe yourself to be a greater person than everyone around you. Wealth and power do not make you great. I bestow upon you a gift--the greatest within my power to give--the gift of discovery. May you discover for yourself what truly makes a man great, and may you find a way to share it with others." She made a sweeping gesture with her arms as she walked down the final three stairs, and then she stood before young Master Darcy. "When you have become the man you were meant to be, all will return to familiar forms."

With a swish of her skirts she walked out into the sunny morning, leaving behind a very bewildered Fitzwilliam. His confusion progressed to panic upon peering in the mirror, and upon encountering each person of his household in their new, enchanted forms.

A goodly distance away in another province there lived a prosperous gentleman with his wife and five daughters. Being a man of sense, he encouraged his daughters to develop their minds and their talents, and gave them such masters as they requested to aid in their improvement. His daughters were extremely handsome. The eldest, Jane, was fair and gentle; the third, Mary, had flowing hair, kind eyes, and an insatiable curiosity; the fourth, Kate, was of an uncommonly ductile temperament; and the youngest, Lyddie, was lively, with a lovely smile. But the gentleman's favorite was his second daughter Elizabeth, who had expressive eyes, quiet intelligence, and a keen wit. Though their father doted on them all he spent the most time with her, which made some of her sisters very jealous.

The eldest two had the most sense of the five sisters, and were liked and respected by the neighbors. Mary had spent too much time in study and instruction and too little time socializing, so was yet awkward in company. The two youngest had a great deal of pride because they were rich. They gave themselves ridiculous airs and would not visit merchants' daughters, nor keep company with any but persons of quality. They went out every day to parties of pleasure, balls, plays, concerts, and elegant events, and they laughed at their other sisters for their worthwhile pursuits and moderate wishes.

As it was known that they were great beauties, several eminent merchants and gentlemen made visits with every intent to court the sisters; but Lyddie and Kate proclaimed they would never marry unless they could meet with a duke, or an earl at least. Mary very civilly thanked each who courted her, and explained that she was too young yet to marry and would stay with her parents a few years longer. And no man ever had the good fortune to win the hearts of Jane or Elizabeth, so they, too, remained in their father's house.

Unfortunately, the gentleman's wife was closer in temperament to the youngest two than any of the others, and she doted most on them. Through their extravagance, the gentleman came to be in rather tight financial circumstances. He owned a small country house at a great distance from town; with tears in his eyes he told his daughters of the need to retrench and his inability to employ servants, and that the entire family must go there and work for their living. The two youngest answered that they would not leave their large residence in town, for they had several lovers who they were sure would be glad to have them though they had no fortune; but the young ladies were mistaken, for their lovers slighted and forsook them in their poverty.

As they were not well-liked on account of their pride, all the neighbors seemed to agree: "They do not deserve to be pitied--we are very glad to see their pride humbled, let them go and give themselves quality airs in milking the cows and minding their dairy. But," added the townspeople, "we are extremely concerned for Jane. She is such a charming, sweet-tempered creature, speaks so kindly to poor people, and is of such an affable, obliging nature. Nay, several gentlemen would marry her, though they know she has not a penny. Elizabeth, too, is kind and friendly, and we know no harm of Mary. Undoubtedly there are men who would marry them and keep them here in town, that they might escape this labor. Nevertheless all three have said they could not think of leaving their poor father in his misfortunes, but are determined to go along with him into the country to comfort and attend him!"

When they came to their country house, the gentleman applied himself to husbandry and tillage; Jane and Elizabeth helped where they could with the heavy tasks, and Mary rose at four in the morning and made haste to have the house clean and breakfast ready for the family. In the beginning they all found it very difficult, for they had not been used to such physical labor, but in less than two months each grew stronger and healthier than ever. After early morning chores Mary pursued her education, trying to tutor her younger sisters; Jane spent time weaving or mending clothes for the family; and Elizabeth read, played on the pianoforte, or sung whilst she spun.

Kate and Lyddie did not know how to spend their time; they got up at ten and did nothing but saunter about the whole day, lamenting the ruin of their fine clothes and loss of acquaintances. "Do but see our sisters," said they, one to the other. "What poor, stupid, mean-spirited creatures they are, to be contented with such an unhappy, dismal situation." Their mother likewise had no part in the care and keeping of the country house, opting rather to sit on a sofa and fret and stew, worrying that no eligible men would ever come to that part of the country, and that the hard work would strip away her eldest daughters' beauty.

The good father was of quite a different opinion; he knew very well that the willingness to work had not diminished any of his daughters. The three had bloomed, their abilities had increased, and they were more wonderful than ever, clearly outshining the two youngest sisters. He admired their humility and industry, and patience; for their sisters not only left all the work of the house to do, but also insulted them every moment.

The family had lived about a year in this situation when the father received a letter from his wife's merchant brother with an account of a vessel safely arrived and an opportunity to raise his fortune. This news turned the heads of the two youngest daughters who immediately flattered themselves with the hopes of returning to town, for they were quite weary of a country life; and when they saw their father ready to set out, they begged of him to buy them new gowns, headdresses, ribbons, and all manner of trifles. Their mother heartily agreed that their dresses had become shabby and their lace in need of replacing, and hinted of her own desire for him to hire a maid to dress her hair. Mary was content with her lot and asked for nothing; Jane thought to herself that all the money her father was going to receive would scarce be sufficient to purchase everything her sisters and mother had requested; and Elizabeth knew that the outcome was by no means certain, and that all talk of purchases should be deferred until the money was in hand.

"What will you have, Elizabeth?" said her father, as he stood beside his saddled horse.

"Oh, Papa, I have no needs."

Her father looked down at her skirts, worn thin from mornings of labor, and touched her curls, unadorned with ribbons. "Surely you, Jane, and Mary deserve some reward for your hard work these months!"

"Since you have the goodness to think of me," answered she, "be so kind to bring me a rose, for none grow hereabouts." Not that Elizabeth cared for a rose, but she asked for something to show her faith in her father, and ensured it was something inexpensive lest the endeavor fail. Lyddie and Kate said she did it only to look particular.

The good man went on his journey, but when he arrived the ship was already unloaded and the goods sold, and after a great deal of trouble and pains to no purpose he started back as poor as before. He was saddened that he could not relieve Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary from their burdens of work, but as he drew nearer his own country his heart lightened at the thought of everything dear that awaited him. He was within thirty miles of his own house, thinking on the pleasure he should have in seeing his children again, when he became lost traveling through a large forest.

It rained and snowed terribly, and the wind was so high that it nearly threw him twice off his horse. With the night approaching he began to envision being either plagued to death with cold and hunger, or else devoured by the wolves he heard howling all round him. Filled with despair at the thought of leaving his family all alone, he chanced to see a light some distance away down a long corridor of trees. He turned his horse in that direction and, after riding a little further, perceived a building illuminated from top to bottom. The good gentleman gave God thanks for this happy discovery, rejoicing that he would not leave Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary the burden of the tilling, planting, and harvesting as well as their other chores. He hastened toward the lights spilling out of a home so large it was nearly a castle, leaping from his horse and rapping at the front door. Despite the terrible weather he expected to encounter some servants, but was greatly surprised at not meeting with anyone, either in the outer courts or at the door. He led his horse to the welcome shelter of a large stable where the poor creature fell to eating both hay and oats very heartily; the cold, weary traveler tied him up to the manger before returning to the house.

Again he knocked at the door, and again there was no answer. He cautiously tried the latch, which opened easily. He stood just inside the door watching and listening for some sign of his host, but was soon tempted by the cheering light and crackle of a fire in a nearby room. He entered and warmed himself by the flames, ignoring the plentifully set table as he hung his coat to dry near the warmth. I hope, thought he, the master of the house and his servants will excuse the liberty I take; I suppose it will not be long before someone appears and I can explain my predicament.

He waited a considerable time, until a clock struck nine, and still nobody came. At last he was so hungry that he could forbear no longer, but filled his plate with chicken, vegetables, rolls, and apples. He ate the first few bites trembling all the while, but soon lost his reserve as he devoured the delicious food before him. He filled his goblet again and again with sweet juice and cool water, and ate and drank until he was full, warm, and tired. He gathered his courage, left the hall, and crossed through several grand apartments with magnificent furniture. Unexpectedly he came to a chamber which had a comfortable looking bed, a cheerfully dying fire, and a basin to wash in. He had been traveling since early morning, added to days of travel. As he was very much fatigued and it was nearly eleven, he concluded it was best to shut the door and go to bed.

It was 9:00 the next morning before the gentleman awoke; he was astonished to find a good suit of clothes in place of his own, which had grown threadbare from work and were quite spoiled by the storm. Certainly, he reasoned, this palace belongs to some kind fairy who has seen and pitied my distress! He looked through a window, where he saw no evidence of the snow that flew the day before. The skies were blue and the most delightful arbors and most beautiful flowers were bathed in gentle sunlight.

When he returned to the great hall he found a chair and small table beside the crackling fire. A cup of warm chocolate, bread, and fruit sat on a plate and saucer. "Thank you, good Madam Fairy, for providing breakfast," he said aloud (though there was a slight tremble in his voice). "I am extremely obliged to you for all your favors."

The good man drank the chocolate and ate breakfast. With a solemn bow at the front door, he departed the house toward the stable to resume his journey home. As he passed through an arbor of roses he remembered Elizabeth's request to him and sought and plucked one of the largest. Immediately he heard a great noise behind him and turned to see a frightful Beast coming toward him. He dropped the rose and held his breath in fear.

"You are very ungrateful," said the Beast in a terrible voice that sounded half human and half animal. "I have saved your life by receiving you into my home and in return you steal my roses!"

"It was b-b-but one rose...Sir," the man said weakly.

"I gave you food and lodging freely! Did you see roses in your room when you woke? On your table with your breakfast?" The Beast rose to his full height, which was considerable.

"N-n-n-no," the frightened gentleman stammered.

"What made you feel free to take that which was not offered?" the Beast demanded. Without waiting for a response, he harshly continued, "You shall die for it; I give you a quarter of an hour to prepare yourself and say your prayers."

The stunned gentleman fell on his knees and began to plead. "Good sir, milord, I beseech you to forgive me. I had no intention to offend in plucking a rose for one of my daughters. If you take my life, my family will be forced to toil and starve without me." Tears of fear and supplication ran down his cheeks.

"My name is not milord," replied the monster, "nor am I a wild animal. I appreciate neither compliments nor fear. I require people to speak as they truly think, so do not imagine I am to be moved by flattering speeches or pitiable stories." The Beast regarded the man for a moment before continuing. "You say you have daughters. I will forgive you--on condition that one of them come to my home willingly and suffer for you." The gentleman naturally opened his mouth to protest, but the Beast cut him off. "There will be no arguments or negotiations. I will allow you to return to your family now, if you swear that you will return by yourself or with a daughter willing to pay your penance within three weeks."

The man had no intention to sacrifice his daughters to the ugly monster, but he thought, in obtaining this respite, he should have the satisfaction of seeing them once more; so he promised, upon oath, he would return. The Beast told him he might set out when he pleased, "But you shall not depart empty handed; go back to the room where you lay, and you will see a small empty chest; fill it with whatever you like best, and take it with you to your home." The gentleman bowed low and tried to pass the Beast and return to the house. "Do not forget your rose, for it has cost you dearly," the Beast said as he withdrew.

As he filled the chest with gold and jewels, the gentleman thought, If I must die, I shall have the comfort, at least, of knowing I do not leave my family destitute. Perhaps with this they can return and live in town. He locked the chest, which was now quite heavy; he mounted his horse and left the mansion now with as much grief as he had entered it with joy. Before dark the good man was at home.

Kate and Lyddie called from the upper windows of the small house, demanding their dresses and gifts, but they would not emerge out of doors to greet him. Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary ran from the back door and walked beside their father and his horse to the stable, where they fed the horse and welcomed their beloved Papa home from his journey. Instead of receiving their embraces with pleasure, he sat heavily and burst into tears, confessing the failure of his original task and hinting that something even more dire had occurred. Holding up the rose he held in his hands, he said, "Here, Elizabeth. Here is the rose you wanted. Jane, Mary, I hope the chest tied to my saddle will mean the end of your labors."

His tears continued to fall, much to the confusion of his daughters. "But, Papa," Elizabeth said as she peered into the chest, "it appears to have been a very profitable journey! The treasure in this chest is more than enough to... Father, I cannot reconcile your mood with your results."

Taking a deep breath, the solemn gentleman related his fatal adventure. Mary opened her mouth wide in shock and Jane collapsed to the floor in tears, while Elizabeth attempted to comfort both her sisters and her father.

Later, when the story was told indoors, the gentleman's wife fainted and had to be carried to her chambers. With dreadful anger, Lyddie and Kate cried, "Our sister Elizabeth would not ask for fine clothes, as we did; she wanted to distinguish herself, and now she will be the death of our poor father! And yet she does not so much as shed a tear!"

Long-suffering Mary berated Kate and Lyddie for their laziness, while compassionate Jane tried to hush their complaints and preserve Elizabeth's feelings. "I have no need to cry," Elizabeth calmly replied, "for my father shall not suffer upon my account. The monster will accept of one of his daughters."

"No!" the gentleman shouted.

"I'll go, dearest Elizabeth!" Jane cried through a haze of tears. "There is no need for you to feel responsible!"

"I can be brave in the face of this challenge," said Mary with a trembling voice.

Kate and Lyddie just stared at the others with no intention to sacrifice themselves, and their mother remained insensible upstairs on her bed.

For several minutes the daughters argued amongst themselves about who would be the one to return to the dreadful beast's home, Elizabeth mainly remaining silent. They were all at an impasse, no closer to reaching a solution than they had been at the beginning, when Elizabeth quietly said, "Sisters, may I have a few moments alone with Papa?" Jane and Mary murmured something about getting ready to retire and left the room; Kate and Lyddie were less willing to leave, but ultimately were pushed out of the room with every intention of listening by the door.

Elizabeth stood with her back to the small, cozy room, staring out the darkened window. "Father, the beast asked for a willing daughter, did he not?"

"He did," her father replied cautiously.

"Jane will happily spare everyone else from this experience, but we both know she is not truly willing to leave the house and the family, and that the journey and the isolation would kill her sooner than the beast would; Mary hopes to prove she is braver than Kate and Lyddie--and we both know she is--but she is yet too young to take on such a challenge." Elizabeth turned, crossed the room, and knelt at her father's feet. "Papa, you know I love you dearly. I would do anything to restore you and our family to where we were more than a year ago. To think of all of you back in town! To think of suitors again calling on Jane! Of Mary having tutors, and perhaps growing comfortable in the company of others! Oh Papa, this is no sacrifice! My sisters need you. I willingly go in your place, for I love you, and our family, so dearly."

Their discussion lasted long into the night; at the end, the father acquiesced with the unspoken intent to leave before dawn the next morning and deliver himself to the Beast; and Elizabeth was ever more determined that it should be her task. Before retiring each, unknown to the other, crept into every bedroom and bid a silent farewell to the mother and fair sisters, already asleep in beds.

Elizabeth was the first to wake and ready herself in the morning, and quickly saddled her father's horse. "Brave Bree," she whispered in its ear, "though I am not a horsewoman I trust you to take me quickly and safely to the home of the beast." Together they were off before the first rays of light hit the home and orchards.

The good gentleman arrived in the stables just as the sun was rising and immediately discovered his missing horse. Running back to the house he saw Elizabeth's empty bed and noted that many of her clothes and things were gone. Saddling another farm horse, he rode as fast as he could toward the home of the Beast.

Early in the evening Bree had reached the avenue of trees, and Elizabeth saw lights in the distance. When they arrived at the mansion some minutes later and she dismounted with her small bag, the horse went of himself into the stable, and Elizabeth found the front door wide open. She stood in the foyer for a long while, as her father had two nights before, calling and hoping to see servants, and eventually walked into the great hall (as her father had done) and found the table spread with two place settings and plenty of food. Despite her hunger she waited in a chair by the fire for some sign of her host; she was wakened two hours later by her very own father, whose slower horse had finally made the same journey. "Did you eat, my dear?" he asked joylessly.

"No, though I am hungry. I was waiting for...an invitation, or...some acknowledgement."

"I am quite sure this food is for us," the somber gentleman said, holding a chair for Elizabeth to sit in. Elizabeth tried to be cheerful for her father's sake, and she did eat, though her appetite was diminished from anxiety. Her father had no heart to eat, and only moved his food around his plate.

When they had finished their meal and risen from the table, they heard a great noise, which the gentleman recognized as the Beast. Instinctively he stood between his daughter and the giant creature who entered the great hall. "I have returned," he called bravely, "to pay my penance."

"But who stands behind you?" the Beast asked.

Elizabeth was frightened by his voice--halfway between a growl and the baritone of a man--and she peered in curiosity and fear around her father to behold his form. He was tall as the tallest man, and twice as wide; he was unlike any animal he had ever seen, and yet at least as much animal as man. He stood erect and wore clothing, but was covered from head to toe in fur.

"Who else has eaten from my table?!" the Beast bellowed.

"My daughter is going home!" the gentleman yelled, not at all afraid of the Beast in this instance. He tried to make himself wider and more imposing in an effort to protect Elizabeth, to make her invisible.

But she stepped around him. "I have come willingly, sir, to take the place of my father. The rose he took from your garden was for me, and my sisters and mother have need of him."

"You have come willingly?" the Beast snarled.

"Y-y-yes," Elizabeth said, trembling.

The Beast responded in a gentler voice. "You are very good, and I am greatly obliged to you; honest man, go your way tomorrow morning. And never think of coming here again. Young lady, please follow me."

Elizabeth's father gathered her in his arms, sobbing and pleading. "Oh, please my dear daughter, please run from this house and return home. The chest of gold will provide for the family--I am old and have lived my life. Oh, Beast, let her live!" he cried piteously.

"I am no beast!" the Beast roared. "You may call me Fitzwilliam, and then you may leave my home in the morning!" He scooped Elizabeth out of her father's arms and carried her swiftly up the staircase. The sorrowful gentleman spent a sleepless evening in his comfortable bedchamber, and then sadly returned with his two horses the following morning, not seeing Elizabeth again before he left.

Though startled when the Beast abruptly seized her, Elizabeth was not hurt for his grip was surprisingly gentle. He bore her securely up the stairs and through a series of corridors until he came to an open door. Inside candles and a fire were burning; the tapestries and paintings on the walls were exquisite, and the bed was large and covered with a thick quilt of down. "This will be your room," the Beast said. His voice was certainly gravelly and animal-like, and yet it sounded almost calm.

"I thought I came to die," Elizabeth said, matter-of-factly.

"You would die for your father?"

"I told you I came willingly. My family needs him."

"Do you wish to die?"

"Of course not," Elizabeth said. "Though I am not afraid to die, if my family remains safe and well."

The Beast regarded her for several moments. "Please, get a good night of sleep."

"Then, you will not..."

Losing his patience for her questions, he yelled, "I'll most likely kill you in the morning! But tonight, you are my guest! Goodnight!" And with a swish of his cape he bounded over the rail to the floor below and was gone.

Elizabeth was overwhelmed with the loss of her family, her day of travel, and her traumatic introduction to the Beast. She was sure she would never sleep, but fell into dreams almost as soon as she had changed into a nightdress and lay in the soft, warm bed. She woke the next morning with the very vague memory of having met with a sparkling lady in a fine gown who told her that all would be well, and with an even fainter vision of a handsome, tall man with light brown hair and a knee-weakening smile. Both visions had cleared from her head by the time she had washed and dressed, resolved to face her destiny.

The house was not as quiet this morning as it had been the evening before, but she met with no one. After many minutes of wandering Elizabeth found her way to the stairs and down to the great hall. She saw a single plate and a single mug of warm chocolate and discerned that her father had already gone without her bidding him farewell. For the first time her situation seemed so real; she sat down in a chair by the fire and wept bitterly.

She did not hear the Beast approach. "Are you...unhappy?" he asked.

"I left my home yesterday morning before I could say goodbye to my sisters and mother! I shall never see them again, never hear their voices, and I had not the chance to tell them how much they mean to me! And now I find my father is gone from your home before I can see him, before I can express my love and gratitude to him! I am utterly alone and about to die! Yes, for the moment, I am unhappy!" Elizabeth was surprised to see sorrow and even compassion on the beastly face in response to her speech.

"Of course they understand...how much you love them...because you came here willingly," the Beast said, awkwardly. "No doubt they are grateful..."

Elizabeth continued to cry. "How long before I am to...pay my father's penance?"

The Beast paced around the room, working out his answer. "I want you to...er, I would like it if you will..." He made a sound that was part grunt, part "ahem." "You will live. That is to say, you will live here as part of my household." He bared his teeth, and Elizabeth wondered if it was a beastly smile.

"Am I to be a servant or a guest?" she asked.

"Guest. No, better. A position of honor and prestige." Again Beast's teeth were evident. "I shall make sure you want for nothing."

"Nothing except my family," Elizabeth said dismissively. She walked quickly from the hall and found her way to her room. She did not emerge again at all for the entirety of that day.

As much as she wished to stay in her room the next day, and every day thereafter, Elizabeth's empty stomach led her to the door and out to the stairs. She heard even more sounds than she had heard the day before--voices in conversation behind closed doors, dishes clattering, quiet music in the distance. Well I should not be surprised; I knew there were at least servants here, and most probably other guests as well.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs the Beast was waiting for her, baring his teeth. "Good morning...Miss," he growled. "What would you have me call you?"

"I am Elizabeth Bennet. Call me whatever you wish," she replied disinterestedly.

"I hoped you would come down this morning. I would like to introduce you to...the others in my household." Beast offered his arm; Elizabeth placed her hand so lightly upon his that he could not even feel it through his clothing. "I hope you slept well?"

"Fine. Thank you." Elizabeth had no interest in prolonging conversation.

He led her through the foyer and down a corridor, to a place in the house she had not seen. "Please feel free to explore; this is your home now, and I want you to feel comfortable here."

"I do not know if I will ever be comfortable here," she responded honestly.

They walked into a cozy room, warmed and bright from the morning sun. A spacious table contained a variety of delicious foods, and the heavenly smell would have driven any hungry person to distraction.

And yet Elizabeth noticed none of it, so preoccupied was she by the creatures surrounding the table. These, at least, were not beings of fancy; they were animals she recognized.

"Allow me to present the others. This is Kitten, my good friend Dog, Duck and Bear, and Giraffe. They are my...they reside here, too."

Each animal was sitting up in its chair, except Giraffe who sat on a cushion on the floor and still had easy access to the table. Kitten was the same size as any cat Elizabeth had seen before; Dog was larger than most dogs, and she suspected he would walk on his hind legs rather than all fours. Duck, too, was larger than any duck she had seen before, while Bear was somewhat smaller than she expected one of its species to be. Giraffe would be, she guessed, 10 feet tall when standing.

Elizabeth was seated at one end of the table, opposite the Beast. She watched each of the guests in fascination, noting that somehow they were able to use their legs or paws or wings as she used her hands. She answered their questions politely as she ate, amused by their distinct voices, hardly tasting her breakfast or following their conversation. She surmised that, as improbable as it seemed, Dog, Giraffe, and Duck were a family and, if she was not mistaken, Duck and Bear were married. She never could quite understand Kitten's relationship, for she was very nearly silent throughout the meal, but it was certain that the Beast was both terribly fond and protective of Kitten. Other animals walked in and out, bearing trays of fresh foods and drinks, carrying away used dishes. Am I the only human about? Elizabeth wondered.

After the meal was over and the others departed, the Beast again approached Elizabeth. "Would you care for a tour of the house and the grounds?" he asked. "I imagine you will want to be able to find things on your own."

Elizabeth would have preferred Kitten or Dog or Bear for a guide, or even one of the servants, but she accepted the Beast's offer. He showed her sitting rooms, dining rooms, a room filled with instruments and sheets of music, and--her favorite--a capacious library with shelves all around and books lying on every table near every comfortable chair. "Do you like it?" the Beast asked. Elizabeth only nodded. "This is my favorite room in the house," he said with feeling.

He showed her where the bedrooms were, pointed to where the other guests stayed and showed her where to find servants, and took her through the immaculate gardens, still miraculously and gloriously in bloom despite the time of year. She was so amazed by the plants and flowers that she hardly remembered the Beast beside her until he stopped and turned to face her.

He stood tall, looking as proud as a beast could. "Elizabeth, I offer you my hand. I want to make you mistress of all you have seen, and more. I have wealth you cannot imagine--you would be greater than you ever dreamed. I know your family is poor and that, under normal circumstances, you would not be suited to be my wife; but you are spirited and noble and tolerably handsome, and I want to join my future with yours."

The Beast stood before her; she had met him only three times in her life and knew not his whims and expressions, but she thought she could see confidence--no, arrogance on his face.

"Well?" he asked, tilting his great, shaggy head to one side.

"Give me time to formulate a suitable answer to this rather...extraordinary proposition," Elizabeth said.

"What need you to say besides yes?" he inquired confidently.

Elizabeth's civility, stretched thin by her new and unusual circumstances, abruptly snapped. "How about no? Why would I consent to marry you? Wed a beast who threatened to kill my father over a single rose? Who demanded my life as reparation? Who insults my family--the family I shall never see again, the family I sacrificed when coming here--while in the same breath claiming I am not good enough to marry? What possible reason would I have to bind my life to yours any more than it is already regrettably bound?"

The Beast gaped in surprise. "You would be partner to all I have! Lands and fortunes! Connections!"

"What connections can a beast possibly have?"

"I AM NOT A BEAST! You may call me Fitzwilliam! And you would do well to investigate and understand who I am before you reject me!"

"Rest assured, Fitzwilliam, that you have already given me sufficient reason to reject you without regret. You are selfish and arrogant. You insist on being called by a man's name while you assign your guests the names of animals. You ignore the feelings and needs of everyone aside from yourself. There is no way I would ever marry you." Elizabeth turned and walked briskly toward the house, leaving the Beast alone with his thoughts.

Inside the house, playing at the pianoforte or browsing through books, she had no idea how her words had affected him. She had no idea that the Beast remained in the garden past dark and into the cold hours of the night, examining his life through the window she'd given him, evaluating everything from his father's death to the present day from a new perspective. Finally the words from that fateful night--You erroneously believe yourself to be a greater person than everyone around you; wealth and power do not make you great--began to make sense.

For Elizabeth the days began to pass without distinction; Duck and Giraffe ignored her almost completely, Bear was friendly and even humorous when he wasn't dozing on a sofa somewhere, and the Beast was silent and sullen. Elizabeth's only companions were Dog, who did walk on hind legs and was almost as tall as she was, and Kitten, who always purred and spoke kindly, but never stayed for long. Elizabeth practiced the pianoforte and read a great many books, longing for some constructive occupation.

She spoke with the servants (who also seemed to have the ability to use their front legs or paws as hands, and many of whom walked upright rather than on four legs) and begged to be allowed to be useful; she made many friends because of her kindness, but none would allow her to work.

Days turned into weeks and Elizabeth's greatest burden became her loneliness. Separated from her family and with no real friend besides Dog, she felt keenly all that she had lost. One day the Beast came upon her as she sat alone in the library, book opened in her lap, tears on her cheeks. "What may I do to ease your sadness, Elizabeth?" he gently inquired.

"I do not understand," she said through her sniffles. "Why take me away from my family? Why bring me here and spare my life, only to leave me alone and virtually friendless? Is this the punishment? To live amongst strangers, craving companionship, aware that I have no one to confide in or care for? Knowing that I am nothing to those around me?"

The Beast sat beside her on the sofa. "You are wrong. I know you have made many friends among the servants--the halls are abuzz with your praises. Dog enjoys the time he spends with you, and Kitten admires you immensely. And..." The Beast breathed in a fortifying breath. "...And though it may not mean much to you, I am impressed with your kindness, your honesty, your industry..."

"Then why do you never speak to me?"

"I thought I...I thought you..." The Beast had another revelation. No matter how boorish his behavior had been, it was totally inexcusable to leave his guest to her own devices. She was new and unconnected in his home, and had no one that cared for her. He bowed his head in shame. "I am sorry." Chastened, he wished to make recompense for his many errors. "Is there anything you would ask of me? I would be glad to fulfill your wishes."

Glancing at the ceiling, tears still trickling down her cheeks, Elizabeth replied, "I want to know that my family prospers and that my father, Jane, and Mary are happy."

Wordlessly Beast took Elizabeth's hand and guided her to a mirror in the corridor by her bedchamber. "Please," he said gently, "look into the mirror."

Confused, Elizabeth did as he asked, noting her red, swollen eyes. "I look terrible," she said.

"You are beautiful, as always," the Beast replied. "Please, tell me again what you wish." She looked questioningly at him. "Please."

"I wish to know how my family is doing."

She had no sooner said this than her own face faded from the mirror; in its place she could clearly see her family. Kate, Lyddie, and her mother were in beautiful dresses, sitting on chairs and receiving elegant callers. Mary appeared to have blossomed, but was sitting with a book. Jane spoke with a gentleman who looked besotted, though Elizabeth could tell Jane was unimpressed. And her father, her dear father, was speaking with her uncle in his library and smiling. Smiling! They were all well.

"What a wonderful gift," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Thank you, Fitzwilliam."

With pain evident in his expression, he said, "Call me Beast, for that is what I am."

In the days and weeks that followed, Beast and Elizabeth spent more and more time together. Dog remained a faithful and amiable companion, and Elizabeth even found ways to learn more about Kitten and forge a friendship. But her most enjoyable times were when she sat with Beast in the library discussing books, or walked with him in the gardens and listened to stories of his mother, or played songs for him on the pianoforte. She was comfortable with his growling voice and the familiar golden brown of his fur, and she truly began to look forward to their hours together.

During these same episodes Beast was increasingly impressed with Elizabeth's character--with the depth of her love, which made her willing to sacrifice her life for her father's; with her good nature in interacting with the servants, with Kitty and Dog, and even with Giraffe and Duck when they were determinedly rude; with her eyes, which sparkled in laughter even though she had been torn from everything she knew and everyone she loved.

Beast's library contained selections in other languages. "What sorts of books are these?" Elizabeth asked him one day, gesturing toward the foreign tomes.

"Science, philosophy, and some novels," Beast replied.

"Can you read them all?"

Months earlier he would have haughtily replied Of course. Now, more conscious of his limitations and failings, he merely said, "Uh, yes."

"All?"

He nodded.

Together they selected a language and began studying so Elizabeth could, as she so often teased, "learn the truth about what's inside those books." Her face glowed with accomplishment with each new thing she mastered, and he found her indescribably lovely.

"There is a word for you in this language, too."

She quirked an eyebrow upward in question.

"Belulino. It means Beauty--most beautiful woman."

"Beast?"

"Yes, Belulino?"

Elizabeth smiled and blushed faintly. "Is it too much to ask...? That is, I would...if I could..."

"What is it? You can feel free to tell me anything."

"Is it possible to check on my family again?"

"Certainly," he said, rising from his chair and offering Elizabeth his arm. "You are welcome to visit the mirror at any time, and to view anything you wish."

Elizabeth stood before the mirror and said, "I wish to see my family."

Mary was doing farm chores with grim determination; Kate was crying; Elizabeth's mother was lying in her bed with a cool cloth on her head and the curtains closed. "Perhaps my mother is ill!" Elizabeth worried. Jane was sadly caring for the household in their mother's absence, and her father was...he was in a totally unfamiliar place, talking to strangers. "I cannot hear what he is saying," Elizabeth said. Slowly his words became audible.

"...my youngest daughter, who seems to have left her friends and disappeared. The young man is this tall and has very dark hair. Have you seen..."

"Lyddie!" Elizabeth gasped. "Lyddie has run off! I wonder where she could have gone!"

Her father faded from view, and instead the mirror clearly showed a carriage traveling along a country road; Lyddie and a dark-haired man were inside, laughing and joking and...

"Lyddie! Oh, Lyddie, how could you?" Elizabeth said to the mirror in despair. "Where are you going?"

"I recognize that road, Belulino. They are 60 miles from here and getting farther by the moment."

Wild-eyed with worry, Elizabeth asked, "How will I get word to my father, Beast? How can I help him save Lyddie?"

"I will...I will send someone to your father with the right information." He tenderly placed his paw on Elizabeth's cheek. "I promise, all will be well."

Beast was not at the supper table that evening, and after the meal Elizabeth had to be content with conversation from Dog and Bear, since Kitten sat with Giraffe and Duck (although she seemed to be reluctant to do so). Everyone retired early, but Elizabeth was unable to sleep. Long after the clock struck midnight she tiptoed into the hallway, stood before the mirror, and whispered, "Show me Lyddie." She saw her sister fast asleep in a bed in what appeared to be an inn--and all alone. She returned to her room, said a silent prayer of thanks, and fell asleep at last.

Beast was not at breakfast the following morning, and it was clear from speaking with the servants that he had not been home during the night. In his absence Kitten seemed smaller and more vulnerable than ever. Elizabeth spent the morning walking the grounds with Kitten; though she already trusted Elizabeth, this was the first day that Kitten allowed herself to confide. By evening they were close friends, and Elizabeth had even assumed the role of Kitten's protector. Every day Beast was gone, from breakfast until they retired they were virtually inseparable, and Elizabeth felt almost sisterly feelings for the small, meek creature.

After four long, busy days Beast arrived back at his home; he was weary and dirty from travel, but his heart was bursting with the anticipation of seeing Elizabeth again. His Belulino. The most beautiful woman--kind, good, intelligent, witty...he knew without doubting that he loved her. He intended to walk through the doors, go straight to his bedchamber, clean up, and be back down in time for supper.

As soon as he was through the doors he spied Elizabeth, who was walking down the stairs. He broke into a wide smile but made no sound--there was no need. She had already seen him. "Beast!" she shouted, hurrying down the steps at full speed, her face aglow with happiness. "You are home!" Elizabeth ran toward him across the marble tiles--almost into his arms, only halting at the last moment a respectable distance away and extending her hand. "I have missed our afternoon study in the library, and our evening discussions! I've longed for our morning walks in the garden!" she said excitedly, before she gained control of her emotions. "I am glad you have returned safely. Did you have a good journey?"

"It was profitable," Beast replied, "but nothing is so good as coming home again."

Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Welcome home, Beast."

Home. Beast could hardly contain his joy. Belulino considers this her home. He dared to hope that it would be--that she would be able to see past the animal exterior to the man he was inside, the man she had inspired him to be. His good spirits lasted all night until he retired. As he changed into nightclothes and blew out his candles, he reveled in the memory of Elizabeth's warm welcome and the delight it was to see her again, to hear her voice. But in the dark he began to doubt. What would a beautiful woman ever see in a beast? She may like me, may even care for me, but she will never return my love or affection. I shall never be more to her than...just a beast. Despite his exhaustion it was many long minutes before Beast drifted into a restless sleep.

Elizabeth suffered no such misfortunes in her bedchamber. What is this I feel? she wondered to herself. She thought back to the various times her father had come home from a journey--she was glad for his safe return, and excited to hear his tales by the fire. But this is something completely different, she thought. Stronger. She considered the occasions when Jane was gone to visit their aunt and they were reunited after several weeks' separation--she was thrilled to have her confidante and closest friend back home again. And I felt much the same when Beast walked through the door, she realized, only there was something...extra. Something I never felt with Jane. She blushed as she realized how close she had been to throwing her arms about his great furry neck and embracing him. I missed him dreadfully. She blew out her candles and climbed into her soft, warm bed. I am glad he is home, and I shall be very pleased to walk with him tomorrow. Before she could give it any more thought, she had drifted into a peaceful, deep sleep.

The following morning, Beast withdrew and distanced himself emotionally from Elizabeth. He had to. She was all that was brave and virtuous and beautiful, and she could never, would never love a beast like him. He loved her, but she deserved a chance to...a chance to... He couldn't finish the sentence, not yet; but he knew he must not fall any deeper.

That same morning, Elizabeth stepped closer. She wrapped her arms affectionately around Beast's great, furry limb as they walked in the garden, she talked familiarly of all that had passed while he was gone, and she genuinely delighted in being with him. I had not realized how much he has come to mean to me. Why, I...I... She couldn't finish the sentence, not yet, but she knew that she had never felt the same way before, about anyone.

For days this intricate pattern continued--Beast being reserved and quiet, Elizabeth growing closer to discovering the true nature of her feelings with every moment. One evening after supper Elizabeth asked--begged--Kitten to play a song on the pianoforte, a song they had worked on together during Beast's absence. For such a tiny creature Kitten played remarkably well, leaping and jumping back and forth across the keys. "All right, I will play," Kitten finally acquiesced, "if you consent to dance with my bro...I mean Fitz...with Beast."

"Gladly," Elizabeth said, curtseying deeply before her proposed partner.

Beast took a deep breath, held out his hand, and then took Elizabeth in his arms. Everything else escaped his notice--the glare from Giraffe, the impolite quacking of Duck, the soft snoring of Bear, and even the amiable gaze of Dog. He only noticed that Elizabeth was in his arms at last. She feels perfect. She is perfect--at least perfect for me. Oh, why did I not meet her when I was a man? When I had some chance to touch her heart? She has even earned Kitten's trust and affection. She belongs here with us--with me. He carefully placed her hand which had been in his paw upon his shoulder, and then raised his empty paw to Elizabeth's cheek. "Belulino," he whispered.

It came out something between a purr, a growl, and a quiet caress, and Elizabeth shivered in his arms and closed her eyes.

She shudders with disgust, Beast thought, despairing. She deserves the chance to find a man to love her. I must set her free. Abruptly he stopped dancing, though Kitten's music continued. Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes and focused on Beast's. "Elizabeth, you are free to leave. You probably are worried about Lyddie, and I know that you miss Jane and Mary and your Father. You have been apart from your family for nearly a year. You have...you have more than paid your father's debt. Your presence here has been worth more than a garden of roses." He wondered if his heart might break. "All the roses in the world. Tomorrow I will arrange for you to go back to your father's home." He bowed deeply to Elizabeth and turned to his guests. "I shall retire to my chamber. Goodnight, everyone." He turned and quickly left the room.

His guests were bewildered. Never had he retired before they did--he was always the consummate host. But Elizabeth was more confused than the others. She quickly bid everyone goodnight, paying special attention to Kitten, then drifted up the stairs. He held me in his arms. I could have danced all night! When he put his hand on my cheek, I thought that he might...of course he would not. He is a gentleman, and gentlemen do not kiss...oh, but I wanted him to! She slumped against the door of her bedchamber, wishing the night would never end, wanting to relive their brief dance over and over; she raised her hand to her cheek that tingled even though Beast had not placed a kiss there. It took many moments of reflection before she recalled the whole of their conversation. My family. He said I should return to my family. He left me no choice. He wants me to leave. As much as I wish to see my family again, I do not know if I can bear...

Suddenly Elizabeth had a brilliant idea. She still heard the faint sounds of music from downstairs, so she cautiously crept to the mirror and whispered, "Show me my family, please." They were all gathered in a room together before the fire. Jane was stitching something, perhaps a handkerchief? Her father was reading. Mary was trimming a bonnet. A bonnet! Mary! Kate and Lyddie looked bored and whispered between themselves, as always, but they were both there. And her mother sat with a cup of what must be her favorite herbal tea, sipping and listening to her daughters. All was well.

"Show me how Lyddie got home," she whispered. She watched as Beast raced for hours to the carriage she had seen--as he placed Lyddie safely in a room of her own in an inn, and gave Lyddie's partner a stern lecture. Elizabeth giggled at the look on the young man's face--it must be terrifying to receive a lecture from a beast. She saw that Lyddie's companion was sent unceremoniously on his way; she watched Beast take Lyddie safely home, and leave a note of explanation for her father along with some gold coins. Tragedy averted.

"Oh, Beast," she whispered, "I could not have been more wrong. You are not selfish, but kind and generous. And wonderful. And I will not leave you."

The next morning she intended to speak to Beast right after breakfast, only he never came. She could not find him walking the grounds in the morning, and he was nowhere in the house in the hours that led up to luncheon. He is determined to get rid of me, she thought unhappily. Perhaps he understood before I did that I care so deeply for him, and he never wants to see me again. With a sad sigh she paced the hall, almost resolving to pack her bags and return to her family. But her heart ached; she could not leave without speaking to the Beast. She summoned a servant and asked the way to Beast's bedchamber.

Elizabeth knocked on his door, which slowly and solemnly swung open. In all her months dwelling with Beast in his mansion she had never seen this room. It was large and handsome, filled with rich wooden furniture and beautifully woven bedclothes and draperies, drenched with light from the large windows. She distractedly wandered across the room to gaze outside at the cloudless blue sky and the immaculate gardens, but the beauty before her only made her more melancholy.

"What is it?" She heard the familiar voice, halfway between a growl and a baritone, and her eyes filled with tears.

Keeping her face resolutely toward the window, Elizabeth said, "I'd rather not leave." She pressed her lips together tightly and willed the tears to stay in her eyes, and thus was quiet for several moments before she spoke again. "That is to say, I'd prefer to...I'd like to..." She turned her eyes toward his. "I want to stay. I do not wish to be a burden--I will be a servant rather than a guest, only..." Her gaze drifted back toward the gardens, although she saw none of it. "Only just let me stay."

Gently Beast put a paw on her shoulder, and gently he turned her to face him. Taking both of her hands in his paws he guided her to a nearby chair and helped her sit. "Why do you wish to stay?"

"Well, we spend our days together, Beast. I...I would miss our walks and our discussions." She wiped a tear that had trickled down her cheek. "I cannot imagine being too far away to ask your opinion and discuss mine. I would be so...so lonely." Her voice trailed off at the end, so that the word lonely was only half-audible.

With his heart breaking, Beast said, "The world is filled with men, Belulino--handsome men who would love you and marry you, who would give you a home and children."

Elizabeth sat up straight and responded with fire in her eyes and fury in her voice. "Who cares how handsome a man is, if he lacks..." Her expression softened as she looked past him, deep in thought. "...kind heartedness, generosity, intelligence, honor..." She looked down at the intricately patterned rug on the floor and, with her voice once again small, said, "I should someday like to have children, but...no other man would be you. It will be easier to surrender the dream of a family of my own than to leave you."

Beast's heart started to pound within his chest; it seemed like an eternity since he had given his heart to Elizabeth, and given up hope she could ever love him. And yet, it sounded like... He knelt before her chair and took both her hands in his. "Belulino, I will give you everything that is mine and become your servant, if only you will stay."

With a heartfelt smile and tears in her eyes, Elizabeth said, "You are a master, not a servant. And you cannot give me everything..."

"I can, and I do. I have already given you my heart, Belulino. I would gladly give you my things. They mean nothing to me, compared to you."

Elizabeth gently placed a hand on Beast's furry cheek. "Who ever would have known that two such different creatures could come to mean so much to each other?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

Daring for the first time to say the words he had felt for so long, Beast said, "I love you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth looked at him with understanding and acceptance--perhaps even a little resignation. "I love you, too."

The light in the room grew so bright it was blinding. Elizabeth rose from her chair to peer from the window, but nothing seemed different outside. "I wonder what that was?" she said.

"I...am not certain." The voice was all baritone with no growl, familiar and yet not. She turned toward Beast and found a man standing before her--a tall man, with unruly light golden brown hair, the same color as Beast's fur, and Beast's clothes hanging very loosely on his frame. He desperately needed a shave and haircut and clothes that fit, but even so he was handsome, and seemed vaguely familiar.

Elizabeth jumped backward, so startled was she by the young man's sudden appearance. "Where is Beast?" she demanded.

"I...I am Beast," the man offered.

Elizabeth smiled. "I have lived here for almost a year. I know what Beast looks like, and you are..." You are not Beast. And yet, somehow, he was. She took a few steps closer, and recognized Beast's eyes in the man's face. She simply asked, "How?"

"I hardly know myself. I know that until I met you I was arrogant and selfish and never thought about the feelings of others. I know that one evening I ungraciously received a neighbor who required shelter, and I gave her a small, uncomfortable room and made her eat breakfast in her chambers. And I know that, when she left this house, everyone within had been transformed as a result of my character failings. But she promised that if I ever learned to be the man I should be, all would be restored." Despite his height and strong build he looked so vulnerable in the too-large clothes.

"And you are...Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth asked.

"I am."

She extended her hand to him. "I am Elizabeth Bennet. Very pleased to meet you."

He reached out slowly and took her hand between both of his. His breath caught in his throat. "We have met, Belulino," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. "And the pleasure has been entirely mine."

Elizabeth felt a struggle within herself--he was at once a stranger and her closest friend. His touch both thrilled her and made her uncomfortable. "You must wish for different attire," she said, for lack of something better to say.

Fitzwilliam glanced over his shoulder at a large mirror, never letting go of her hand. "Yes, it appears I require it. I suspect everyone in the household save you has several hours of work ahead of them."

"You mean you think everyone... They are human?"

"I would assume. You may be without company until supper." He smiled at her--the most handsome smile she had ever seen--and her heart skipped a beat.

"I'll read in the library, then."

"I shall come find you there when I am presentable," Fitzwilliam promised.

Elizabeth heard shouts and commotions behind closed doors and pondered on the great change that had overcome the household. Tonight she would meet all her companions in human form. To think! All the animals who have become so familiar...were truly human!

But the biggest change of all--she was in love with a beast who was now a man.

She sat with a book on her lap pondering all that had happened, all that lay ahead, not even paying attention to the page before her eyes. She did not notice the sounds of activity outside the library door, nor heed the faint red and orange outside the library windows as the sun dipped toward the trees, nor even notice the timid servant who quietly lit the candles and slipped silently out of the room. Her mind was totally, utterly occupied in her own concerns when her host entered the room and stood before her, admiring the way she chewed her lip in concentration and the way her hair fell across her shoulders and down her back.

"Belulino," Fitzwilliam said quietly.

It had the same spine-tingling effect as when they were dancing together; Elizabeth inhaled deeply and raised her eyes to behold...the most handsome man she had ever seen. His hair fell in waves across his forehead and around his ears, and in clothes that fit he was very nearly... Elizabeth swallowed. "Good evening, Fitzwilliam."

He helped her rise from the chair, and pulled her close to him. "Oh, Elizabeth, I love you," he whispered, enveloping her in an embrace--wrapping her in his arms, resting his chin on her curls. "I love you."

Her heart pounded, and yet she knew not how to reply.

"I have longed to feel your hands, cheeks, and hair with fingertips rather than fur-covered paws. I have wished to hold you in my arms. I think my every dream came true when you said you love me."

"Because you are human again?" Elizabeth asked, relaxing, despite the unfamiliarity of his appearance, into Fitzwilliam's chest.

She felt a deep rumble and heard his laughter--again, familiar, and yet not. "No, Belulino, although I admit both of us being human does make things easier. No," he said, stroking her hair, "my hopes were fulfilled just because you love me." Elizabeth closed her eyes; she faintly smelled something masculine and wonderful, she felt Fitzwilliam's chest rising and falling, and she was...content.

"The first time I asked you to marry me, I thought I was being benevolent. I imagined it was the highest form of generosity to share my worldly goods with someone who had need, after saving not one, but two lives. Soon after your refusal I began to see it differently. I wanted to prove to myself that I was a better man than the enchantress had said, that I possessed none of the flaws she assigned to me. I suppose I was motivated by my feelings of superiority and my mistaken notion that wealth and power were the only things of true value.

"Belulino, you changed me. You changed my perceptions. I realized that deep love--the kind you have for your father, to do what you did for him--that bravery, honesty, happiness, kindness, patience, all these things and so many more have greater worth than all my wealth and all my land. I had thought to share with you and elevate your status; but it was you who shared with me, and elevated my character. It was you who gave me reason to become the man my father always hoped I would be.

"And so I ask you again: will you marry me? Will you be my wife and my partner, my companion and my love? I will always cherish you, and I shall want for nothing more if you are by my side."

With her eyes still closed, with her ear to his chest, the voice sounded familiar--a baritone with a rumble. It was easy to forget the last few hours and imagine he was still Beast. "Yes," she said contentedly. "Yes. I will spend my life here, with you."

"Belulino!" he cried, holding her out at arm's length. "You give me so much joy!" She watched as he nodded toward a servant who had been stationed at a discreet distance next to the door, and she saw the servant hastily leave the room. And she looked into Fitzwilliam's face, and felt the strange sensation of perfect ease coupled with uncomfortable unfamiliarity. "Come, we should go meet the others and eat some supper." He led her from the room. "We have a long evening ahead of us."

As they passed the great hall--that cavernous room which was her first introduction to Beast and this house--she noticed servants working diligently and feverishly therein. "What is their task?" she asked in passing.

"They are readying for the wedding," Fitzwilliam replied casually. "The preparations will be complete shortly after supper." Elizabeth stopped mid-step, and Fitzwilliam looked at her curiously, noting her hesitance and unease. "Unless you'd rather wed in the morning?"

"Oh, sir, I hardly...I cannot...I..." She took one step back from him. "'Tis the strangest thing, Fitzwilliam, for truly I love the Beast."

"But I am he!"

"Yes, I know, and there are things that are familiar. But when I look at you, when I hear your voice and see your smile, I do not know you. I cannot--yet--you are half stranger to me."

Fitzwilliam seized her hands. "It is only my appearance that is strange! Perhaps you do not like..."

"Oh, no, sir, for you are quite handsome. But I am unaccustomed to...to you in your present form."

Fitzwilliam breathed a sigh of disappointment. "Will you still sit across from me at my table, in your place as mistress of this house?" he asked, extending his arm.

"It will be a pleasure to sit at your table, Fitzwilliam," she said softly, hoping to reassure him.

They walked into the room, where the others were already assembled. "Elizabeth, may I present our companions? This is Charles Bingley," he gestured to Dog's chair, "his sister Caroline Bingley," he glanced at Giraffe's usual place, "his other sister Louisa Hurst and her husband, Gil Hurst," indicating Duck and Bear, "and my sister, Georgiana," he said at last, motioning toward Kitten.

Georgiana was tall and sturdy, as unlike a kitten in form as possible, yet she retained her shyness as a human. Charles was as friendly and genial as any canine--not quite as tall as Fitzwilliam, and with hair as dark and copper-colored as his fur had been. Louisa was rather short and slightly plump, like a duck, but her husband's girth exceeded her own (as did his good humor). And Caroline was as tall as her brother and her hair darker, with a long neck and long, thin arms, still looking as tall and aloof as ever she did when she was a giraffe.

Elizabeth gripped Fitzwilliam's arm in her effort to keep her mirth from escaping. He looked at her intensely, lovingly, questioningly, until she was sure she knew just what he was silently asking, and she nodded her consent. A pleased grin spread over his handsome face as he again turned toward the others assembled. "Elizabeth has consented to be my wife. The time for the ceremony is not quite settled, but," he turned to peer in her eyes, "hopefully 'twill not be far off, for she has long been the mistress of my heart."

Elizabeth was very aware of the contempt from Caroline, but made every effort, as always, to be courteous and engaging during supper. She now had the opportunity to view Kitten--Georgiana--not as a friend, but as a soon-to-be sister. And every time she looked across the table at Fitzwilliam his eyes were on her--searching, imploring, worshipping. With each glance he became more familiar and more beloved.

There was no more talk of a wedding that night; the evening passed in comfortable conversation in the music room with everyone gathered before the fire. Charles extended his heartiest congratulations to the betrothed pair, and Georgiana bashfully expressed her heartfelt delight. Caroline and Louisa offered their profuse and insincere felicitations, and Gil grinned and merely said, "I knew it would be so."

Fitzwilliam only had eyes for Elizabeth. He took every opportunity to brush his hand across hers, to rest his leg alongside her leg, to look into her eyes. He commented on a book they had both read and thus initiated a light-hearted disagreement; they both excused themselves to go to the library and seek out the volume in question and ended by sitting side by side on a sofa, talking long about the book first, and everything else after, laughing and smiling and sharing.

Elizabeth looked into Fitzwilliam's eyes. "You are my Beast. You are the one I...the one I...fell in love with. "

He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You are the one--the only one for me."

There was one particular matter left unresolved, but Elizabeth hesitated to bring it up explicitly; so she hinted as best she could. "You are not unfamiliar to me, nor are you a stranger."

"I have been here all along," Fitzwilliam said, wrapping a curl around his fingers.

Trying again, Elizabeth continued, "In fact, you are...quite dear."

Fitzwilliam placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, slowly dropping his lips toward hers. When his face was only inches away, he suddenly pulled back. "Wait! Are you saying...? Belulino, will you marry me then? Tomorrow?"

Relieved that he had reintroduced the subject on his own, she said, "I will," raising her hand to his shaven cheek. "I will."

After a dazed smile, he again dropped his lips toward hers. Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her face.

"Fitzwilliam! You have guests!" Charles said, bursting into the library. "Oh, sorry to interrupt old man. To be more accurate, perhaps I should say you have guests, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth rose from her seat. "I have guests?" She followed Charles to the foyer where she found her entire family walking through the doors. Lyddie and Kate were already peering impertinently through doorways and remarking on furnishings and space; her mother was begging for a seat and some refreshment, as though she had walked from their home rather than riding in Fitzwilliam's most comfortable carriage (for to Elizabeth's home with the carriage is where Fitzwilliam sent the servant when she accepted his proposal). But her father, Jane, and Mary all ran to her and embraced her; it was a joyous reunion. They spoke for several minutes of the journey, of Fitzwilliam's beautiful house, of the Bennets' home in town, and of the things that had transpired over these many months.

So caught up was she in seeing her family that Elizabeth quite forgot her manners; at length, she introduced her parents and sisters to all the residents of the house, noting Charles's beatific expression when he beheld her fair sister Jane. Last she grasped Fitzwilliam's hand and brought him forward. "And this is your host and my beloved fiancé, Fitzwilliam." He gazed fondly into her eyes, still awash in wonder that she loved him. "Our wedding is to be tomorrow morning, and I am glad you are all come to join us!"

Very little remains to be told; the Bennets all slept soundly in their very comfortable beds. The good gentleman Mr. Bennet was overjoyed to see his daughter again and astounded at the transformation in Fitzwilliam. The wedding was absolutely beautiful, and the bride and groom both glowed. Jane's heart was touched, for the first time in her life, by the kind attention and devotion of Charles Bingley. Unfortunately, Lyddie and Kate, overwhelmed by the wealth and grandeur before them, flirted shamelessly with both the groom and Charles, neither of whom gave them a second glance.

Restored to their human form, the guests left Fitzwilliam's house the day after the wedding, although, if the truth were known, they did not see the groom or his new wife from the moment the wedding ended. Louisa and Gil returned to their home and their pursuits, which were mainly good meals and long naps, and were moderately happy ever after. Caroline had to be content with someone who was not Fitzwilliam, and married the first man who offered for her. She lived not quite as happily ever after. Jane and Charles were joyfully wed within a half year from their first meeting. Mary blossomed in beauty and knowledge, and was no longer awkward socially; she and Georgiana struck up a close friendship, each remaining single for a few years longer before finding wonderfully suitable men to marry.

And Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth were very happy. Even though this is a fairy tale, we can assume they had struggles and difficulties as well as blessings; but the good times outweighed and outnumbered the bad, and they gave thanks every day that they found and married each other, for they were perfectly suited. Their regard and affection, based as they were on virtue, deepened with each passing year, and with each child that joined their happy home. They bore all sadness and joy together with the most profound love.

And the entire family hoped that, with much luck and perhaps a little enchantment, eventually Kate and Lyddie might realize that being good was a greater reward than riches, although in Elizabeth's case the two seemed to go hand in hand, blurring the moral lesson. Oh well.

The End

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