#what about when she rescued the wedding photographer on horseback

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 3

Notes: My Camp NaNoWriMo Project for April 2020.  A Rumbelling of the 1993 movie ‘The Piano’. Has 14 chapters, all are written. I’ll post one every few days. Some dialogue is taken directly from the film and from ‘Once Upon a Time’. No copyright infringement intended - I’m just having fun. The film is gorgeous, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend that you watch it.

Summary:  Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated…

Rating: E (for smut, dark subject matter and violence in future chapters)

Also available on AO3

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Tilly and Belle awoke to find the house empty. While they ate bread with apple preserves, Belle noticed a woman's touch about the place: a crocheted doily, ornate china cups with gaudy red roses, lace trimmed curtains at the windows. Who chose them?

Bursting with curiosity, Tilly opened every cabinet and pulled out every drawer. Belle's first inclination was to scold her daughter for being nosy and going through someone else’s possessions. Then she laughed at herself, remembering this was Tilly's home now too. These were now their possessions. So she joined her instead.

They found a washtub, and she had Tilly scrub the mud from yesterday's dresses. If the trek from the beach was any indication, mud would be their constant companion.

Her restless hands tapped snatches of music in accompaniment to the unceasing rain on the roof. A melody expressing her current uneasiness filled her mind, and she ached to play it. She couldn't even read a book to relax.

Midday, she saw Gaston exit the barn. Perhaps she ought to have gone out there to see him earlier, but she had needed the time alone with Tilly to adjust to the new surroundings. And going out in the rain again was just too daunting.

There was a knock at the door. Why would Gaston knock at his own home? She was surprised when she opened the door, not to find her husband, but two women and a red-haired man. Gaston appeared behind the strangers, and she stood aside to let them all enter.

“May I present my Aunt Cora, her daughter Regina, and Reverend Hopper. Everyone, this is Belle and her daughter Tilly.”

Belle bowed her head and curtsied, and prompted Tilly to do so as well. Her first impression of the women was one of overwhelming coldness. Their faces were beautiful but severe. They were the source of the feminine touches. Reverend Hopper was the opposite. His face and manner exuded warmth and welcome. She saw in him a potential friend.

“They're here to join us for a mid-day meal. I forgot to tell you.”

Belle had a moment of panic. What would she serve them? Gaston hadn't given her any time to prepare.

“Don't worry, we brought food with us,” said Cora, indicating Regina's raised basket. Belle motioned to Tilly to set the table.

Fresh bread, cheese, a meat pie, and delicate cookies appeared from the basket. They looked delicious and skillfully prepared. But the uncomfortable conversation soon caused them to sour in her stomach.

“You must be so grateful to have found a man as wonderful as my nephew to marry you,” stated Cora. “Did you despair of ever finding a husband considering your... circumstances?”

Tilly conveyed her mother's answer. “Mama says her circumstances were quite lovely, thank you. And there was no despair, she simply fancied an adventure.”

“I'm sure she did,” replied Cora, raising an eyebrow while stirring her tea.

Belle knew she had to get along with these women. She told Tilly to compliment the tea set, even though she found the large red roses garish and ugly.

“Thank you. That was a gift from us,” answered Regina. “Mother had hoped Gaston would find a woman of quality to take care of them. Oh, well.”

Belle bristled. Would there be no end to their innuendo that she was somehow lacking? Gaston, enjoying his food, was oblivious to the cattiness.

Reverend Hopper attempted to steer the conversation to safer ground. “Would you like me to take a wedding photograph of the two of you? I'm an amateur photographer and always enjoy a chance to indulge in my hobby. You didn't get a ceremony, but you could at least have a picture.”

Gaston brightened. “We do make a very attractive couple. Yes, Reverend, we'd like that.”

“I agree,” interjected Cora, as if they required her agreement. “We shall all return on a nicer day and have it done. Something to show your future children, Gaston.” She patted his cheek, smiling.

Gaston tensed and changed the subject, asking about Regina's latest projects. His aunt told them all about her daughter's accomplishments, how well she could sing, her proficiency as a cook and gardener, and her talent as a seamstress. Belle wanted to ask how such a talented, quality woman was still unmarried but did not want to stoop to their level of petty barbs.

Reverand Hopper stood. “We must be going. Belle and Tilly, it was wonderful to meet you both,” he said. “I hope you will be happy here.” At last, the ordeal was over. After a series of goodbyes, Cora and her entourage departed. Gaston returned to the barn.

When Belle finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, there was nothing left to distract her. She stared out the window at the sullen rain. Her piano and books were alone on the beach, waiting for her to rescue them.

The rain ceased during the night. Sunlight streamed in the windows, cheering Belle and Tilly as they discussed potential adventures. Gaston observed Belle and her daughter at the table, irritated. Their hands danced in silent conversation. It was unnerving. At least she would be useful around the house, someone to watch over things when he wasn't there.

“I have to go away for a few days. There is some business I need to conduct and it can’t wait. Will you be all right here tending to the chickens and other chores?”

Belle smiled and nodded. Tilly replied, “Yes, we will be.”

“We can get to know each other better when I return.” Another nod. “If you have any problems, Mr. Gold lives a relatively short distance away. I'll leave a map.”

Gaston left on horseback. As Belle tidied up, all she could think about were her piano and books. Her life was silent without her instrument. Music filled everything with color. She missed the comfort and adventure of her books.

Household tasks complete, Belle and Tilly dressed in boots and jackets. Mr. Gold had not been friendly, but she had glimpsed something kind in his brown eyes. She was sure of it. He would take them to the beach.

Planks served as makeshift paths through the mud. It was a frustrating and messy business navigating them. The planks, not always close enough, often left too big of a gap to jump. They sank into the mire. At last, they left the cleared area of Gaston's property.

Mr. Gold's house was smaller than Gaston's, but it complemented its surroundings. He had not removed the native plants and trees, instead he had worked with them. It gave the effect of finding an enchanted cottage in the woods.

She knocked at the door and Mr. Gold answered. He had a cane in his hand. She hadn't noticed him using one the other day. “Mrs. Legume. What can I do for you?”

Belle wrote him a quick note. He looked at the paper and stated, “I can't read.” He was not embarrassed to tell her this. His father had abandoned him as a child with his two “aunties.” They were spinners and taught him the trade. School was a luxury he’d not had time for.

Belle was taken aback. She turned to Tilly and signed to her.

“Please take us to the beach.”

“No. I can't. Sorry.” He did not want to get involved. He closed the door.

Belle would not be dissuaded. He had to help her. She plopped down on the porch with Tilly and told her a story to pass the time. It was about an evil sorcerer who lived in a castle he had enchanted to look like a tiny house in the woods. He hunted children and skinned them for their pelts.

Tilly watched, rapt. The more fanciful and gruesome the story, the better. Belle embellished the tale with all sorts of fantastical details, wondering how long it would take Mr. Gold to emerge.

It surprised Gold when he came out to sparkling blue eyes and smiles. Their calmness disarmed him.

“I can't do it.”

They said nothing.

“I have other plans.”

Silence.

It was difficult to argue when the other party would not engage. Gold did not relish them sitting on the porch, staring at him for the rest of the day. This was the easiest way to get rid of them, he told himself as he traded his cane for a walking stick and put on his jacket. He was just removing an annoyance from his property and satisfying his curiosity.

Feigning impatience, he started down the trail. “Aren't you coming?”

The trip down to the beach progressed faster than Belle expected. Since it was only the three of them and they had nothing heavy to carry, Gold took them a different way.

This time she could enjoy the scenery. Instead of focusing on the mud at her feet, her gaze turned upward. The canopy of trees was a lush green against the clear blue sky. Birds fluttered and sang, and Belle imagined their chatter to be cheering her along.

Gold cast an occasional furtive glance behind him to make sure they kept up. When they reached the cliff and Belle caught sight of her things, her face transformed with joy. She and Tilly scampered down the steep incline as fast as they could, overtaking his careful descent. The change in her was amazing.

Belle ran to the piano. She tore at the slats of the crate covering the keys. It took Gold longer to make his way down to the beach. By the time he reached them, Belle was playing music and Tilly was dancing with childish abandon.

Gold watched and told himself the glow he saw in her was just the warmth of the sun. Had he thought her beautiful before? He was wrong. She was exquisite. Her eyes were animated and her dark hair came loose from its braid, whipping in the wind, red highlights flashing in the day’s brightness.

It was a moment he would always remember. Standing in the sand, the waves crashing, birds in the sky. Gold did not have experience with music. Like schooling, it was a luxury he had not enjoyed as a child and he hadn't had time for as he worked to make his fortune. He hadn’t known what he was missing. It was passion, longing, radiance. He was enthralled.

Tilly tired of her dance and made creatures out of shells in the sand. Gold found himself helping, drawing large outlines of seahorses and starfish with his cane. In return, Tilly told him stories of their voyage.

Too soon, their shadows lengthened across the sand. The tone of her composition changed. It sped up, as though the player was trying to cram in as many notes as possible before reaching the end. Tense, staccato sounds slowed into sad, lonely chords. Tilly sat down next to her mother and they played a brief, simple duet in farewell.

Gold helped Belle re-secure her piano. Before he thought better of it, he spoke. “Would you like to bring some books back with you? We can put some in my satchel.”

Belle opened a trunk, carefully peeling back the waterproof canvas. She looked at the books like a woman forced to choose between her children. She handed him a heavy botanical tome and a book of plays to put into his bag. Tilly was given a slim book of poems that she could easily carry, and Belle took a larger book of poetry for herself. She wished she could teleport all the books by magic and reminded herself to be grateful to have these four returning with her. It was better than nothing. She closed the lid on the rest.

It was time to leave. On their way back, Gold missed the Belle from the beach, the one who was lit from within with joy. Each step took them further away from the beautiful day on the shore. She wilted when the house came into sight. Reality returned.

Through Tilly, she thanked him.

“It was no matter. I simply wanted you off my porch.”

She laughed soundlessly, her expressive eyes appearing to see straight through him. He rubbed his fingers, uneasy from the scrutiny.

“Mama would like to know if you would care to come in.”

“Now why would I want to do that? Here, take these heavy things,” he said. Uncomfortable, he thrust the books towards Belle. And with that, he spun around and trudged home, his ears still hearing the music from the beach, his vision full of Belle's hands dancing on the black and white keys, and the memory of Tilly twirling in the sun.

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Link to music Belle played on the beach -  (Composed by Michael Nyman for the film "The Piano".)