Blue Rose and Raven: Chapter Twenty

Marius reaffirms his family bonds as the Beast makes a shocking decision.

The Beast and I headed home by late afternoon. I carried the sweet-smelling basket of pastries under my arm. We ended up staying at the DeRoses’ house a bit longer than intended as I regaled them with my extraordinary story. They listened in enraptured disbelief as I described the strange manor, the servants, the Beast. Grandma seemed especially astonished at the story. Hers was the family who had last left the manor. “Did you see the bell tower?” She asked with bated breath. When I nodded in confirmation, her eyes filled with stars. “Then there’s hope after all,” She simply said with a smile.

            The Beast waited outside in the interim. I apologized profusely to her as we ventured home. She kindly dismissed my apologies, deeming them unnecessary. “You should know by now that I am an infinitely patient individual.” Her voice said as she walked unseen beside me. “Catching up with your friends ought to be your first priority anyway.”

            “I didn’t want to leave you out there too long,” I replied. “I thought you would get lonely.”

            “I am the farthest thing from lonely, Marius.” The Beast intoned deeply. “As long as you are by my side, I know I am secure.”

            Warmth spread through my chest. “I’m grateful to hear that, Beast.”

            “I am grateful to know it.”

 

            The remainder of the day was spent with the family together. I spent most of the day in the sitting room sketching whatever came to mind while various people came in and out of the room. At one point Connie sat with me and discussed his day. Caesar sat on the floor and played with some of his toys. The Beast sat with me and read for a spell. In the light of the fading sun, I found myself enjoying these small moments of peace and quiet with my kin. I did not wish for anything else in return, and I was happy to savor it for however long I could. I wouldn’t have traded it for all the wealth in the world.

            There were two moments that bookended the day. The first happened before dinner. I was helping Camille with tidying up the kitchen before dinner when I happened upon August sitting by the fireplace. He looked through various slips of paper, his fingers gently stroking the yellowed parchments and ink scratchings. Then with such bracing cruelty, he began tossing them into the open fire. We watched them turn black and shatter to pieces as the fire consumed them. He did this with a few more handfuls of paper until he set the remaining ones down and held his head in his hands. I hesitated, then approached him. “What are you doing, August?” I asked curiously.

            “Burning something, what does it look like?” He said through his hands. “Why is it you always appear at the most inopportune times?”

            “I’m not sure.” I answered, unsure of how to take the comment. I quickly looked over the remaining stack of paper. “Those look like letters.”

            “They are,” August said glumly. “And they don’t matter to me anymore.”

            “Markus?” I ventured.

            August nodded. “We began writing when I left Benoit’s office. It continued for several months. Evidentially Mr. Benoit would not approve if Markus ever told him of our little affair. Then two months ago, the letters just stopped coming.” My brother hung his head. He brushed stray blond locks from his face. “I haven’t heard from him in so long. And I don’t dare seek him out, for both our sakes. I don’t want anything to happen to him out of my own selfishness.” He stared into the fire, with distant sad eyes. “If destroying these letters means forgetting about him, then so be it.” Despite his cold words, I could see how much the action weighed on him.

            I didn’t know what to do to comfort him. I understood the uncertainty of his situation. How could August know why Markus stopped writing to him? That was the price of being alone: To know one’s thoughts and one’s alone. It was a blessing as well as a curse. There was little I could do to ease what burdened his heart. So I pulled up a stool and sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. We sat together watching the fire for a spell. August began to reach for the remaining letters, then withdrew his hand. He instead took his other arm and wrapped it around me, pulling me close to him.

 

            The second incident happened some hours after dinner. We had all retired to bed or in bed. I was in my new room sketching at my desk. It resembled my old room back in our old home, if a little smaller. I didn’t mind. At least it was clean and comfortable and lacked bugs and other vermin, plus I didn’t have to sleep on the floor. I was busy drawing various animals from imagination with charcoal by the spare light of a few candles when I heard a knock at my door. I stopped drawing, curious as to who it could possibly be at this time of night. “Come in,” I said.

The door creaked open. Mother walked in comfortable looking sleepwear and carried a small candleholder with a single lit candle. “I hope I’m not disturbing you,” she said.

“I was just drawing,” I said, pushing away from my desk. “Is something troubling you?”

“No, I’m alright.” Mother assured me, placing her small torch on the desk. She sat on the bed, which was right beside the desk. “I just wanted to speak to you privately. Now that the day has finished, I felt it was a proper moment.”

“It has been a hectic day,” I concurred.

We sat in silence. Then after a moment, Mother said “I thought I’d lost you, Marius.”

“I know,” I said guiltily. “I’ve caused everyone so much pain.” I looked to the ground, feeling like a child. “I ran away. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” The memories of winter came flooding back.

“You did run away. That much is true,” Mother said declaratively. But her tone was not angry. Instead, she leaned forward. “I only want to know why.”

Her words shocked me. I had been dreading this inevitable confrontation, the thought of seeing her again and having to explain my decision. I expected her to disown me for my actions. But that must’ve been my shame telling me those things. Why would my mother ever disown me? Nonetheless, finding the words would be difficult. I took a deep breath and focused. “When our family became destitute, it all happened so quickly. It was so sudden; I didn’t know how to think about it.” I shifted in my chair. “And when you told me of Duchanne’s death…I’m not sure why. Something changed in me, and I thought I shouldn’t paint anymore.”

“Whoever told you that you couldn’t paint again?”

            “I felt that I wouldn’t be useful in our new life. August was smart. Connie was strong and could make things. Camille can cook. What was I supposed to do? What could I do besides sweep floors or help with minor chores? I couldn’t do anything any of you could do.” Familiar feelings of inadequacy resurfaced, their unpleasantness collecting like spoiled milk in my gut. “I felt useless. And when you asked us what we wanted when you left, it reminded me of how I wanted to paint again. Then you came home and...” My voice trailed off. The memory of that fateful morning hung in the aether, likely for both of us. I held back tears. “That’s why I ran away, Mother. I thought the family could still survive without me. Because I couldn’t bear to see someone pay for my selfishness.” I felt as if I was admitting to a terrible crime. Weight eased from my chest, which caused tears to fall.

            “You are so much like your father.” She said, touching my cheek and wiping my tears away. “You don’t know it, but you are.”

            “How?”

            “He was the same way. I told him his heart was so full it leaked on the floor,” she said, laughing. “He was always feeling so responsible for things that weren’t his fault. But I knew he just wanted to help in any way he could. That was my favorite part about him, that heart of his.” she said, touching her chest. A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it down. “It’s the heart that people don’t see, but it can be the most beautiful part of a person, Marius.”

            “I don’t know if my heart is worth much,” I deflected.

            “But it is,” she said, gently squeezing my hand. “When it’s used right, it can do great things. And as far as I know, you’ve done something great with yours. For all the time you were gone, I hated that Beast for whatever I believed she was doing to you. I was heartbroken that you’d left, and it took me so long to accept that you would never come back. Then you reappear with the same Beast by your side with one of the most extraordinary stories I’ve ever heard. If it weren’t for you, you would have come back to us, wouldn’t have brought that poor thing. Without you, we would still be living in squalor. We wouldn’t have met Elaine and her grandmother.” She put a finger under my chin and brought my eyes to hers. “You may not see it, but we all see you for who you are. You have a beautiful heart and a gentle soul. And that is more valuable than all the treasure in the world.” The love in her eyes was powerful and palpable. “You are my treasure.”

            I pulled her close and hugged her tightly. She in turn squeezed me tighter, almost crushing me. I let my tears roll down my cheeks, no longer holding back whatever raw emotion in my heart. For too long I had blamed myself for so much in the recent path. For too long I had held it so much within my heart that I didn’t know how to express. From Duchanne’s death to our sudden shift of status, it had all affected me so deeply that even I couldn’t properly perceive it. I’d let it stay inside me for so long and I let it hurt so many people that I’d taken for granted. But of all the people I thought I’d hurt the most, Mother was the one who forgave me. Where I thought there would be anger and resentment, there was only the love which had always been there, as deeply rooted as any great oak. What I felt in my heart was not in those around me. I remembered an expression that said something to the manner of “the people in your life are a mirror”. Now I understood what that meant. They were all my mirrors, as I was to them. And I was beginning to understand what they saw.

            When I finally laid down to sleep, my sleep was the deepest I’d ever experienced. There were no dreams, but there was a profound peace that came over me. I think, in that quiet place, the weight which burdened me finally lifted from my heart. I had been forgiven, so I could forgive myself.

            The pattering of rain on my window woke me from my peaceful sleep. I woke, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stretched. Strange, I thought as I climbed out of bed and inspected the window. There were no clouds yesterday. Where did this storm come from? I heard footsteps and someone shuffling about. The light from my window was a dark blue. It was still early morning. Who could possibly be up at this hour?

            I gently opened my door and stood in the hall. The other bedroom doors were closed. I crept silently through the hall to the stairs and went downstairs. The entire house was silent save for the falling rain. Still the shuffling continued. I carefully made my way downstairs. As I entered the living room, saw the front door close shut. A terrible thought gripped my heart. I rushed out the door to see a large, cloaked figure ducking into the alleyway beside the house. I followed the Beast, not caring that my clothes were already wet with rain and my feet covered in mud. “Beast!” I exclaimed.

            The Beast stood with her back to me. The stone horse laid in the alleyway, eyes closed and unmoving. Her shoulders were low. “Do not stop me, Marius,” she said without facing me. “If you can fulfill a last request for a friend.”

            “But why? Did we do something to upset you?” I asked, taking a step forward. “If there was something I did�"”

            “Do not blame yourself for anything else. This has nothing to do with you or your kin.” She turned around. Only her bright eyes were visible in the gloom. As she stepped closer to me, I could see the corners of her beak were curled down. Her eyes were filled with incalculable sadness. “I must return home.”

            “Then stay until everyone wakes and say goodbye first,” I pleaded. “Please.”

            The Beast now stood over me. She knelt and gently brushed my cheek with a talon. “You are kind, and you are generous. I see now where it comes from. You have so much love in your life, you cannot imagine.” She withdrew her hand, shutting her eyes as if in pain. “Which is why I must return to my home and remain there for the foreseeable future. I do not deserve the love you have shown me. My place is apart from the world.”

            “That’s not true!” I protested. “You deserve to be loved. Everyone deserves that.”

            “That is not true for everyone,” The Beast said sadly, turning away from me. “I cannot accept this gift. It was not meant for me.” She slid onto the saddle of the stone horse. Its stone eyes opened with a grinding sound. “It has been a privilege to know you, Marius Dufresne.”

            “Beast�"” I pleaded one last time.

            The horse hoisted itself into the air. Hollow whistling breaths blew from its flaring nostrils. The Beast looked down at me from atop the saddle. “I don’t know if I will ever forget you.  I beg you then to forget me, for both our sakes,” The Beast said as she drew her hood over her head. She and the horse melted from sight. “Goodbye.” The Beast’s disappearing foot kicked the side of the horse. I darted out of the way as the nearly invisible horse’s long legs stepped out of the alleyway and into the street. The steed and its rider were faintly outlined in the falling rain, water sliding off to reveal the negative space of their bodies. I stood in the alley and watched helplessly as the Beast rode away into the rain, her ghostly form disappearing into the deluge.

           

            I returned to my room and stared out the window for the rest of the morning in silence. I could not properly process the events which just occurred. Coherent thought seemed impossible. Understanding eluded me. The last year had been a strange one, for certain. Many fantastic and unexplainable things happened to me, what with the magical lair of a Beast in a forgotten corner of the forest. And yet the most difficult thing to understand where situations like these are: the moments where people’s actions defied one’s expectations. I searched myself and the past day for answers as to why the Beast left so soon. What did we say, I say that prompted her departure? Did we make her unwelcome? She did not say anything about it to me. She never once appeared indicated she experienced any discomfort besides fear when we first arrived yesterday morning. I could’ve puzzled over every moment of that day until I finally realized that it was pointless. Nothing less than magic could tell me what motivated her, and I was torturing myself by trying to know what I was never meant to know. Instead, a memory surfaced: that morning when I prepared for my lesson and receiving the news of Duchanne’s death. Was this any different, or was history repeating itself? Was this just a cosmic balancing act for my leaving Mother crying in the snow last winter? Why do I blame myself for the things I have little control over? I thought. I have done things that hurt others, but I’ve been forgiven. Why is it so hard for me to forgive myself? I pondered the question to myself for the rest of the morning until the house began to stir. I think this is the price of having a heart, I thought as morning sunlight washed over my bedroom floor. That it sometimes becomes too full.

            “Where’s the Beast?” Mother asked as we all sat at the kitchen table for breakfast. “I haven’t seen her anywhere.”

            “She left this morning,” I said quietly. “I caught her as she was leaving.”

            “Oh, that’s too bad,” Connie said, rubbing my shoulder. “I was beginning to like her.”

            “To be honest, I didn’t know what to make of her when you came home,” August added. “But I’ll admit, I was proven wrong.”

            “That’s one way to put it,” Mother said. “Did she explain why?”

            I shook my head.

            Mother frowned. “Hm. Strange.”

            “I hope we didn’t do anything to make her unwelcome,” Camille said. “That would be the last thing we would have wanted for her.”

            “She said it was nothing we did. She just…needed to return home.” I said, shrugging. “She said she didn’t deserve the way we treated her.”

            “That is a tragic way to think of oneself.” Mother mused. “But there is little than can be done about it at this point.” She gently touched my hand from across the table. “Do not blame yourself.”

            “I don’t,” I assured her. That was a half-truth.

            After breakfast, I tried to get my mind off the Beast. I helped Camille with sundry chores. I spent time reading. There were even painting materials which Mother acquired thanks to a trading partner. I sat in my room trying to think of something, anything, to paint. Nothing came to me. Not even the impulse to just smear whatever colors on the canvas came to me. I couldn’t keep my mind off what happened.

            I decided I needed fresh air, so I grabbed my coat and boots and took a walk. The rain stopped, but the sky was still overcast. Instead of a post rain coolness, the air was sharp and bitter. Despite being late June, the weather seemed more appropriate for early October. I wondered what this meant as I walked.

            I had no destination in mind. I passed the large overgrown raven statue of the town square and the rows of little houses and shops stuck closely together. Then an idea came to me, and I headed to the distant part of town where the cottage was located. The little house was still as tiny and decrepit as when we’d first met it. Its windows clouded, a window shutter hanging from a hinge, ivy and leaves growing up the brick and wood of its walls. Its roof no longer sagged inward, but countless years of wear and tear threatened to bring it down. The house looked old and tired, hardly a place for an entire family. In no world did it look like it could be lived in. Yet it had been. We’d all managed despite the circumstances. Our situation was not ideal, far from it. But we survived and looked after each other through it all. The thought filled me with momentary peace and security. The thought of the Beast’s departure faded from my mind, if only for a moment.

            I arrived home at dusk, having spent the rest of the day just wandering. I did feel lighter in spirit, with the events of this morning feeling somewhat distant. Now I understood that I was home for good, where I belonged. There would be adjustments, but for now everything was back to a state of normalcy. No Beast, no magic manor. Just me and my family together again. I retired to bed and laid down, acceptance washing over me. She was gone, I repeated in my thoughts as I drifted off to sleep. She was gone. She was gone.

 

Author's Note

General thoughts.