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MORBID BITE
Chapter Six: The Beast with the Violin
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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Belle sat on her bed, bandaging her feet with a few layers of soft cloth. Her hair fell over the tops of her toes as she balanced her leg on her knee. Feeling satisfied that walking would hurt less, she stood up and walked a few paces – just to make sure. Smiling, she carefully made her way over to the mirror where she picked up her brush and pulled her hair into a neat plate. She then headed for the door and out onto the landing, glancing around to check Sylvia wasn't anywhere to be found, she made her way downstairs. After seeing no sign of the woman, she made her way downstairs.
A man stood at the bottom of the stairs, peeling an apple with an ivory handled pocket knife. A dusting of dirt covered his face, giving him a rough look.
"Bonjour?" Belle asked in a questioning tone.
His striking blue eyes glanced up from his apple, and settled on Belle's face, a coy sideward smile spreading across his handsome face. Before he had time to answer Nicholas strolled out of his study, holding a folded letter.
"Ah, Belle." His face lit up as his gaze followed her down the main stairs. "This is my friend, Sébastien Lafleur."
"Enchanté, mademoiselle." Sébastien bowed down and took her hand, gently kissing her forefinger but lingering a second too long. Belle pulled away her hand and stared down at the gentleman, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Where were you heading?" Nicholas asked, a jealous look in his eyes as he stared aggressively at his friend.
"I was wondering if it would be possible to go into town. I need some sheet music and I fear there is none here." Belle slowly moved her gaze back to Nicholas, grabbing tightly to her beaded bag.
"Yes of course, I shall get Carlson to bring the carriage round," his tone was almost cold as he spoke to her.
"Oh, no need, I can ride...if you would lend me a horse?" Belle let out a small laugh, feeling the tension she had created between the two men.
"Yes um..." Nicholas stumbled his words, giving Sébastien a chance to interrupt.
"Please mademoiselle, take mine, she is already tacked up in the yard." He pointed towards the grey mare that Belle could see through the open front door.
"Thank you monsieur Lafleur, but I feel it rude, I barely know you."
"Please, I insist." He smiled and led her out onto the cobbles.
The stable man brought out a step and then helped Belle get up onto the horse. It felt almost foreign to her as she rolled her ankles in the stirrups; it had been so long since her last ride.
"She's a little stubborn on her left side, so make sure to tug quite hard," Sébastien said, standing by the horse's head whilst holding her reins.
"Thank you monsieur Lafleur. Will you be here when I return?" Belle politely asked, she found him quite amusing and his accent made her wonder about his travels.
"Well, that all depends if Nicholas will have me." He smiled and hit the horse's rump.
Belle set off a slow trout but as she became used to the hard saddle and rough leather reins she sped up; cantering through the forest, feeling the wind thundering her face. It did not take her too long to spot the town, its wooden houses scattered like seeds across a plain field. She rode down the mud path, searching for the centre. People walked past her, loud and dirty, but she did not mind. It was life outside her own, taking her away from the tortures of her mind.
Jumping down from Sébastian's horse, she strolled around the market place, the smile never leaving her lips. Children ran by her, laughing and screaming, men sold ideas at stalls, and all around her there was existence. Weaving through the people, horse in tow, she made her way towards the music stand, violins, trumpets and other instruments hung around the top edge of the stall.
"Bonjour madame," the stall keeper said, acknowledging Belle with a small nod.
"Bonjour."
Belle flicked trough the sheet music covering the stand, her eyes skimming the lines of music. Sébastien's horse nibbled at the end of Belle's hair, its rough lips rubbing against her shoulder.
"I demand a refund! This instrument broke after the first note was played." The man slammed his violin down on to the stall, rocking the wooden frame. The middle string was frayed back, but apart from that it was fine.
The stall keeper looked up at the rugged man and shuddered as a look of recognition dawned on him.
"Maybe you should be more careful," Belle muttered under her breath, not amused at his rudeness towards his elder.
His jaw clenched obviously hearing Belle's remark.
"I bought this last week! You sold me a dud one!" his voice rose with volume and anger as he began to wave his arms around. The shop keeper was scared into silence as he backed away from the man.
"Do not be so rude, he has done nothing to spite you," Belle's voice was calm as she glared up at the harsh man, unable to stand by and allow him to be so abusive.
"You can't tell me what to do." He spat out his words and walked closer to her, his large body pressing against her as his putrid breath blew into her face.
"No, I can't, but it is common curtsy." Belle made eye contact, and she felt as though she had seen that stare before. There was a harshness surrounded his soul and she couldn't tear away her gaze.
"Common curtsy...huh." He laughed but the cruel smile vanished almost as fast as it had appeared. "You must be new here; this town has no curtsy." His words felt like they were dripping with truth, but before she could answer a scream pierced the air.
Everybody in the centre stopped and an eerie silence fell across the town. Belle broke her gaze from her stranger and looked out to see where the scream had come from.
A woman covered in blood came stumbling out of an alleyway, tears streaming down her white wrinkled face. Her hands were waving in the air dripping with blood.
"Help me, please! Mon fils! Mon fils!"
A sudden rush of want a be heroes ran into the alleyway from where the woman had come from. Belle watched mothers pull their children close, men grab the halters of their daggers, as a cold fear spread across the people.
Belle turned back towards the man, but he had disappeared, his violin left sitting of the stall.
Dear Adele,
I wish I was writing this letter under better circumstances...
Belle violently scribbled out the words she had written on the page. The thought of informing her sisters on the death of their father brought a sickening pit to her stomach and she could not bring herself to write the words for all to see. For some reason writing them made the whole thing so much more real.
She dipped the quill back into the ink and stayed there her hand unmoving as it began to shake, the black ink swimming under the candle light. She snatched her hand back and glared at the quill, how could she write such terrible news to her sisters.
The broken violin sat in the corner of her room, just out of reach from the bed. The stranger and his hurt blue eyes like a tortured animal had had such an effect on her yesterday that she just could not shake him off. Belle's attention kept on being drawn in by the damaged violin as if it kept on beckoning to her. Without realizing it, she fiddled with the spare string she had bought yesterday; wrapping the wire around her fingers while half looking at the instrument. The sheet music sat untouched next to the unwritten letters. Her mind fleeted back the commotion after the poor woman's screams. They said the boy's throat was ripped apart, his head almost torn off his small body. Belle could not think about it, it reminded her of her father, so she pushed down the memories, suppressing the pain.
Standing up, she made her way towards the violin, dangling the wire from her hand. She seized the wooden instrument and began to unwind the wire, tugging and pushing the pegs. She did it with such vigour that it seemed the instrument would break.
It only took her a few minutes, but her hand ached with the strain she had put on it. Setting the violin back down she was happy with her work. She wondered what it sounded like when the man played the violen. She had begun to learn the instrument before moving to the harp, but it had always sound like a scream. Belle had no bow and was not going to waste Nicholas's money on something she barely knew how to play.
Running her soft hand over the smooth vanished wood, her rugged stranger flashed again into her mind. There had been an air of such hurt and seclusion around him it made her want to find out more. She knew it was most likely her mind trying to run away from the truth of her life, but she had to try and forget, or she felt her heart would break.
Belle grabbed her white cloak and threw it around her back, then took a hold of the violin and rushed towards the stables.
Sébastien and Nicholas had left with Sylvia a few hours ago so taking the carriage was not an option. Belle rushed across the cobles and made her way towards the smell of horses. She hurriedly tacked up one of them and pulled herself up onto its back.
Making her way into town had not taken long but the people were less giving than she had hoped. Belle spent hours talking to the people in the town trying to find her mystery stranger. The towns folk turned seemingly cold when they realized who she wished to seek. It was not until she asked the priest did she get a full answer. He had told her that the man she was looking for lived on the border between the town and the forest, the priest told Belle to be carefully he was a suspected heathen. This did not much effect Belle she was a believer of God, but acceptance was a Christian value she took as the up most important principal.
The path to the man's house had been hard to find and by the time she approached the house the light was beginning to fade. It was quaint wooden one-bedroom building, surrounded by rose bushes, almost all of them in bud. Belle tugged the corner of her cloak and placed her hand on one of the buds, the colour of the rose heads still a mystery.
"Bonjour?"
Belle jumped at the deep voice that came from the other side of the bush. Her face flushing red at the embarrassment of being caught trespassing on his property, she fumbled back to the saddle of the horse and untied the violin she had fastened to it. The man looked over the bush rubbing his muddy hand on his dark grey breeches, his eyes running over Belle's back. He bent down to the ground and picked up the pile of half skinned rabbits and walked around to the front of the bush.
"I came to give you this." Belle turned back holding out the violin but staggered back as she realized how close he stood, her eyes widening slightly at the blooded meat.
He slowly moved his eyes down from Belle's face and rested on the wooden instrument. He let go of the rabbits' feet; letting them fall to the ground in a bone scrunching sound. He snatched it by the neck and ran his fingers over the mended strings.
"Do you play?" Belle asked.
"No, I don't." He bluntly replied not raising his gaze.
"But you said you played one note and it broke." Belle was beginning to regret mending his instrument.
"I played a note. And it broke. I never said I could play." He glared up at her, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Why do you have a violin then?" Belle crossed her arms over her chest, not seeing the small amusement he bore, and she was not going to leave without some kind of thanks or conversation.
He looked at her through his thick eyebrows, answering her question with a not so friendly glare.
"Listen. You haven't been very nice to me, considering I mended your instrument and then spent hours inquiring to where I could find you. I mean a thank you would have been the least you could say, even your name would have been polite."
Belle spun on her heals and pulled on the horse's rein, wanting to get back to the house as quickly as she could.
"My name is Raoul, mademoiselle," he called softly, but she did not turn or stop.
Belle carried on walking, her mind seething, her gloved hand tightening around the leather lead.
Raoul ran up and placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She whipped her head around and brought her hand up to slap him, but he grabbed it before she could connect with his handsome face.
"Come to the festival with me a week from today. You'll have to wear something less...expensive but as a thank you I could take you." He smiled and let go of her arm, which she snatched back and pretended to rub her skin as if her had hurt her. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night along the path outside the Lyon mansion." He said not waiting for an answer as he moved his eyes down to her chin where they stayed, his hand reaching out to touch her sore wrist.
"I won't be there, I wouldn't go with such a rude man." She pursed her lips and kept her gaze on his unchanging expression.
"I look forwards to seeing you then." Raoul looked up and smiled as he walked back to his dead rabbits.
"Do not bother as I won't be there." She shouted after him, but she was not sure if she believed her words.
"Just after sundown, mademoiselle." He waved back at her, not turning his head.
The horse trotted back to the house and into the stable yard, almost steering its self as Belle thought back to her rugged gentleman or stranger she wasn't sure how to label him now. She was so lost in thought she did not notice the extra carriage that stood outside the stables, even as she put the horse back into its stall she did not notice the new horses that were grazing on oats.
Belle made her way to the front door to see Sébastien leaning on the outside wall a book in his hands. He looked up as he saw her coming raising an eye brow his lips about to form a word.
"Annabelle! Where have you been? You are covered in dirt and...why are you not wearing morning clothes, father isn't buried yet." A white faced, pink cheek woman stormed out of the house her arms neatly tucked away under a fox skinned muff.
"Adele." Belle stared at her sister, unable to believe she was standing in front of her...here.
"Oui bonjour sister." Her head elegantly shock as she looked disapprovingly at her younger sister.
"What are you doing here?" Belle slowly said as she followed her back inside and into the living room where she found Alisha and Sylvia sitting on light turquoise canapé.
"I wrote to them," Sylvia said her hard stare aimed at Belle, while her hand rested on the Alisha's shoulder, "I felt it only best they knew what had happened to your poor father."
Alisha's face was puffy and her usual high cheek bones were hidden behind tear ridden skin.
"We were gratefully for your letter, merci." Adele said with such sickly sincerity, it gave Belle a nauseous feeling in her stomach.
"Why didn't you write to us?" Adele asked as she removed her hand warmer.
"I tried to, I just couldn't make out the right words to say." Belle tried to sound simplistic towards her sister's pain.
"Right words to say! Annabelle our father is dead. How hard is that to write?"
Belle flinched at Alisha's harsh tone and the truth of her cold statement.
"I'm sorry, I did try."
Belle could not look at them, she had never been close to her sisters and their five year age gap had meant they never played together as children. They had taken after their late mother; Belle on the other hand was said to be like her father and the quite intelligent passion he had possessed as a young man – the attribute that made him rich.
A knock on the living room door pierced through the silence of the room like a cloud of death.
"Pardon, I hope I haven't interrupted anything too important." Sébastien put his head round the door his inquisitive eyes darting over Belle and her sisters to rest on Sylvia's piercing death glare.
"No you haven't sir. What was it you wanted?" Adele smiled, her perfect face fitting the wide smile that graced it.
"Nicholas's is wondering whether you are staying here for dinner and if so you are welcome to stay the night." He smiled at Belle's sisters and both of them inwardly giggled at his charming tone.
"Yes, that would be most palatable. May we be shown to our rooms?" Adele gestured for Alisha to follow her as she headed for the door.
"Of course." He grinned and stepped back widening the door, "Mrs Cote here will take you up."
Belle trailed her sisters but as she left she noticed Sylvia's glare trailed on her back.
"Tell me mademoiselle, can you cope with you sisters for two days?" Sébastien appeared at her side his sideward smile never leaving his face.
"I...I think it's strange for the master of the house to not ask my sister's that question himself." Belle tried to add humour to her words, but they came out bland and low.
"Well, he may not know...yet."
Belle gave a small laugh and then looked back at the front door.
"You seem quite." His smile wavered as he noticed Belle's agitated fiddle of the string on her collar.
"I'm just...deciding."
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I wanted to take this note to thank everyone who has voted and commented on Morbid Bite it means so much and you have helped it get over 5000 reads which is amazing!!
I really hope you enjoyed the chapter!