beauty and the devil // [open]

Raindrops ran down the window pane, creating streaks of water on the glass. A lightning bolt struck lazily, and a quiet roll of thunder followed. Fragile clouds let loose a few rays of sun, illuminating small parts of the city. The woman lounging in the window seat languidly drew a few finishing strokes on a piece of paper, then set the sketch aside, allowing her eyes to roam to the outside. She rubbed them gently, blinking out the dreariness that came with stormy days. No balloons today, she thought with disappointment. They were beautiful with their bright colors and elaborate designs.

Her bare feet slipped onto the ground, finding her shoes and sliding in. She stood and stretched her arms upwards, bending slightly backwards then rolling her shoulders. Light brown hair fell in a loose braid down her back, and she reached back to undo it, running her fingers through the unwashed disaster. Grabbing a dark robe, then the drawing she had been working, she made her way out of the day room.

While walking, she slipped into the robe and hugged it around her delicate frame. The hall had finally been stripped of all paintings, she noted with some frustration. Along with the rest of the paintings in the house, any object of value had gone missing. When confronted, her father had mumbled a lie about charities then waved her away. Even the good silver was gone, and most of their servants as well. All that remained was the cook, two house girls and the gardener, Pierre. He had been with them since her mother passed, and though he was well past working age, he seemed to have no desire to leave.

She slowed before reaching her father’s office. Creeping along the wall, she stopped by his door and slowed her breathing to hear the quiet voices drifting towards her.

“No, quite frankly that will not do. I have already sold all that is – if you are suggesting – absolutely not.”

The second voice was much softer, gentle and almost incoherent.

“My life would be on the line if… my daughter’s life,” there was a breathless pause, and she could feel his frown deepening, “He is to be here today, is he not? Three o’clock? Can I be assured that he will be more reasonable this time?”

“If you would allow...”

“No, I’m afraid he cannot meet her. There is absolutely no cause for her to be drawn into this catastrophe. You can tell him that I will see him today and if he thinks-”

There was a brief shuffling and their words became heated. She slid into the room across the hall and waited until the visitor had left, and her father had settled. Of course it had all been sold; there was no charitable donation, no kindhearted acts of service. He was protecting himself, as usual. From what, was the question. He was the king’s favored inventor, adored by all royalty and invited to court more often than not.

Cautiously, she entered the room.

“Ah, Bellatrix,” he beamed, genuinely enough that she briefly forgot the encounter she had witnessed, “Dismal morning, is it not? However,” he drew back the blinds, allowing the lazy sunlight to come through the window, “It looks as if it will be clear by noon, and from what I’ve heard, the fair will go on unhindered.”

Bellatrix approached his desk, still holding the sketch lightly in her hands, “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be attending today,” a sly smile crept onto her lips and lingered, “I think I’ll stay home and continue the book you bought me. It’s thrilling thus far.”

Concern shot through his eyes, then a stern looked settled in, “No doubt it is excellent, why don’t you bring it with you? You’ve stayed in the past two days, it’s time to get out. Vivienne and Colette are surely worried sick about you.”

“Having another secret meeting today, are we, father?”

His eyebrows arched into his receding hairline, “How did-what are you implying?”

“You shoo me out constantly, and besides, I’m no fool. I assume he’s coming to buy our last paintings? Maybe our chandelier? May as well be out with it, it looks dreadfully out of place now that our home is practically empty.”

Stammering and reddening, he slammed his fist on the desk, crushing a few important looking papers, “Enough of this! Whatever you believe to be happening is not, and I would advise you to keep your nose out of affairs that do not concern you!”

“Why don’t you sell the house and be done? That ought to be enough to pay off whatever horrible debt you’ve managed to get yourself into,” she paused, tilting her head, sucking down anger. She was no longer a child and expected to be treated appropriately, but his sudden look of despair softened her.

“I would never… your mother...” his shoulders slouched, and he gazed down at his hands.

Bellatrix, feeling pain radiating from him like a beacon, went around the desk and hugged his neck, “Forgive me father, I was out of line. You are right, your business is your own, and I know you would never sell our home. I will stay out of it from now on,” she lied sweetly, kissing his cheek then withdrawing.

“Thank you, my sweet Belle,” he relaxed considerably and waved towards her paper, “Now, show me what you’ve got there.”

“Only a fair ride design, for children, nothing complicated,” she handed him the sketch.

“Ah yes, a carousel...quite nice, these elaborate horses, very beautiful. But there are a few technical flaws...” He studied it for a moment, took a pencil and drew a couple additions, then smiled and handed it back, “Now shouldn’t you be getting ready for the fair?”

“I suppose I should. Vivienne will be by to see if I’ll be going, I’m sure, I will have her take me.”

He nodded, and Bellatrix left.

Sure enough, after she had bathed and while assessing the clothing laid out on her bed, a short, energetic female burst into her room. Bellatrix laughed, grabbing a dress and covering herself, “Viv! I thought I taught you how to knock.”

“Oh put it down, you prude! Besides you won’t be wearing that-” Vivienne snapped her fingers impatiently and a young girl brought in several boxes, “Now I know it’s a bit late, but don’t think I forgot about your present.”

“Late? I turned twenty-two last month!”

“Well. Yes. There’s that, but-” she opened the first box and pulled out a gorgeous dress and corset. The skirt fell long in the back, only to shorten slightly in the front. It was a dusty green, lined with brown and full enough to use as a pillow. Vivienne held it up against her body and twirled, “-you can’t tell me it wasn’t worth the wait. And there’s more!” The two of them dug through the boxes, pulling out a pair of tall boots and patterned stockings, along with an assortment of gadgets and trinkets.

As predicted, the weather was clearing by noon, and come one o’clock, they were finally ready. Vivienne attended to the finishing touches while Bellatrix pulled on multiple heavy bracelets and set the gear decorated top hat on her head. She gently attached the detailed eyeglass, her favorite accessory, and played with the lenses until Vivienne slapped her hand, “Be careful with those!”

Armed with her best parasol, she left the house after briefly saying goodbye to her extremely distraught father. Their carriage made it’s way to the fair and dropped them at the front, but after less than two hours perusing the grounds, another storm rolled in. The rain came fast and hard, drenching the pair within minutes. They huddled under the scant protection their umbrellas offered while waiting for the coach. Once inside, they giggled and began peeling off their more delicate accessories, gently laying them out while assuring each other the wet would not harm their clothes.

On the way, Bellatrix had been too tired to remember why she had been told to go the fair in the first place, but by the time she reached home, the fog had cleared. She entered the house softly, setting down her trinkets by the front door and holding a finger to her lips to warn the staff to stay quiet. Before creeping down the hall, she slid her boots off. The damp stockings made her unsteady, though she had almost made her way to her father’s office without a sound.

While she was priding herself on her stealth, her foot slid. She tried desperately to regain balance, but her heavy clothes brought her crashing to the ground with a loud curse.

“That must be one the girls, such klutzes they are,” she heard her father saying adamantly, but his voice was growing closer, “Let us continue-no, let’s not...oh, why hello Bellatrix. I see the fair was rained out,” he forced a smile and reached out a hand to help her up, but she rose on her own, straightening her shoulders and facing the stranger who she assumed, perhaps wrongfully, was the one causing the unknown disaster.

Bellatrix smiled with all the charm in the world, held out her hand, then opened her mouth, “You, sir, can go right to hell, but before you do, be sure to return our paintings. I was quite fond of them.”