The heaviness of that evening did not dissipate with the morning sun. Rather, it spread to cover the entire town as the destruction of the storm was calculated. The result pointed to a darker, hungrier winter. Then, three more cows—or the parts of them—were found on the edge of a field.
Mattie told Beatrice all about it when Beatrice came by the general store to look for buttons.
“The Rangers found the heads,” Mattie said, “in a little pile and they was surrounded by bones in a circle.”
Arthur hadn’t mentioned this during his last visit, but Beatrice didn’t think he would. At least, not with her within earshot.
Beatrice said, “I thought all the livestock was being kept from the Guardian Woods.”
“That’s just it.”
The bell over the doors rang. Both girls looked over to watch Harriet Powell with her two young sons enter. The girls turned their backs on them, pretending to go through the selection of buttons in their little drawers.
“What’s just it?” whispered Beatrice.
“The cows weren’t in the fields by the woods. Old Man Kurt’s been keeping his cattle close to home. Those cows were meant for slaughter and they was in the barn when he went to bed the night before.”
Beatrice’s fingers stopped. She held a little black button, forgotten as she stared at Mattie. “That means the Haunted Ones went into the barn.”
“Surely does.”
“But I thought they couldn’t leave the woods.”
“The Council is gonna have an emergency meeting. Pa—”
“Mrs. Powell, we don’t have it.”
The sharp voice cut through the conversation. Beatrice looked over her shoulder.
Mrs. Powell stood at the counter, hands curled in fists on the polished wood. “All the bags and sacks and such in your back room and you don’t have enough for a journey?”
Mr. Sutter shook his head. “No, ma’am. I might have enough to get your family to Pewtertown but you’ll leave me hard up until the traders get here. The Rangers have already gotten their supplies from me for their trip.”
Pewtertown was barely a town. It was a trading post and the nearest piece of civilization. It stood just beyond the Guardian Woods and where the Rangers met the merchants who brought supplies three times a year. The third visit was around Michaelmas and the Rangers acting as escort had already left.
“So, you won’t sell,” Mrs. Powell said. “You’ve got it but you won’t sell.”
He sighed. “I got to think about other people. It’s normal to be rationing right now.”
“No, it ain’t. It ain’t and you know it.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before dropping his eyes. Mrs. Powell glared at him, letting the silence stretch and gain weight. Bright sunlight poured through the windows but Beatrice could have sworn she heard distant thunder.
Mrs. Powell turned on her heel, only to halt when her gaze fell onto Beatrice.
“You!” The older woman pointed at her. “This is your fault! Everyone is sayin’ them flowers you brought was cursed!”
Mr. Sutter said, “Harriet Powell, I won’t have you yelling at my customers! Either buy something or get out.”
Mrs. Powell scowled at him, shot Bea a glare for good measure, and marched out, letting her children scurry after her.
After the door banged closed, just as the chimes of the bell faded, Bea said, “Why’d she yell at me like that?”
Mr. Sutter suddenly became interested in rearranging a collection of bottles on the counter.
Mattie said, “Some people remember the flowers you got for Lady’s Day. The real perfect roses? The rumor is you picked them from the Woods and that’s what’s got the Haunted Ones riled.”
“I didn’t go into the Woods. And there were cows dying before then, anyhow.”
“Where did you go?”
Her heart fluttered hard against her breastbone. Beatrice selected the buttons she wanted.
“Beatrice. Where did you go?”
“Nowhere important. But I swear to you, it wasn’t the Woods.”
Beatrice took her selection to the counter and paid for them, carefully counting out her pennies. Mr. Sutter put the buttons in a little paper sack and gave them to her. He didn’t look at her at all. Clutching the sack to her chest, Beatrice hurried home.
The whole walk, as she passed family, friends, and neighbors, it seemed to her that no one really wanted to look at her.
Summer cooled into the first touches of autumn. Beatrice missed Emmerich. But it felt as if every time she looked out the window, or walked into town, Rangers in their grey coats were nearby. Emmerich’s prediction that things would settle down was not coming true.
Every morning, she checked the roses. They remained fresh and unwilted. Every two days, she changed out the water, careful to do it when her mother was not in the kitchen. Beatrice did not want to answer questions about why the roses still lived. At night, she looked at the bouquet of roses and breathed in their scent until she drifted asleep.
A week before Michaelmas, Papa came home early. It was canning day and steam filled the kitchen. Beatrice had just pulled hot jars from their water bath when she heard Samson trudging into the yard.
“What’s he doing home?” asked Ma, wiping her hands on her apron.
When Papa came in, his mouth was set in a straight line. “Bea, you need to come with me.”
Beatrice felt a chill settle into her chest. “Why?”
“The Elders wanna have a word. Put on your nice dress.”
She didn’t move. “Why, Papa?”
Ma said, “Do what your father tells you.”
Beatrice didn’t move. She continued to stare at her father.
He was turning his hat over his hands, fingers rubbing the brim. “They want to talk to you about those roses you cut for the Lady’s statue. Go on and change clothes.”
Feeling slightly sick, she did as she was told.
Beatrice changed into her dark green Sunday dress and donned her yellow Sunday bonnet. She sat behind her father on Samson’s broad back. The horse was meant for pulling carts and plows, but he did all right for riding.
As they neared the edge of town, Papa drew Samson to a stop. “Where did you get the roses?”
She stared hard at the back of his blue shirt. A tidy set of stitches, done in slightly darker thread, ran right over Papa’s left shoulder blade.
“Beatrice Louise,” he said. “Answer me.”
He rarely said her full first name. Hearing her middle name attached to it just made it all the worse. But she wasn’t a little girl anymore to be chided and swept away. She squared her shoulders.
“I didn’t go into the Woods, Papa,” she said.
“There aren’t any rose bushes in the Flower Meadow. And no one grows roses in town like the ones you picked. People noticed that at the festival but it wasn’t till recent that folk started to question.” He shifted slightly in the saddle to better look at her over his shoulder. “Things are getting desperate. And desperate folk grasp at anything that could make things better. They start lookin’ around for someone to blame. They’re looking at you. I can’t protect you unless you tell me the truth.”
Everyone wanted to protect her. Even Emmerich felt like she couldn’t even be rained on. It was enough to prick Beatrice’s pride. But when she looked up into her father’s eyes, she only saw love. There was not even a hint of condescension.
But if she told the truth, what would happen to Emmerich?
“I can’t tell you, Papa,” she said.
He gazed at her a moment longer and then let out a long sigh. They continued.
The Meeting Hall was empty save for the five elders at the high table. Captain Lee stood to the side, accompanied by four other Rangers. Arthur was not among them.
Papa moved to walk ahead of Beatrice but she side-stepped him, striding up the aisle between the benches until she stood a few feet from the dais.
Elder Jacobs said, “There’s no need for that look, girl. We aren’t here to condemn you or chastise you. We only have a few questions.”
“You want to know about the roses.”
A woman to Jacobs’ left, Elder Sutter, said, “People are startin’ t’ talk, Beatrice. They think you brought a curse on us.”
“They’re just roses, Elder.”
“But they ain’t like any roses we’ve seen ‘round here. Where did you get them?”
“I didn’t go into the Guardian Woods.”
Elder Sutter sighed and looked at Elder Jacobs. Elder Jacobs had such a resigned expression, Beatrice felt as if the floor was beginning to dissolve under her feet.
Jacobs said, “Captain Lee, please report.”
Captain Lee stepped forward until he stood within arm’s reach of Beatrice. “Elders, one of my men came to me recently. He said he did not say anything originally because he thought nothing of it. But with the increase of livestock death and attacks on people, he felt it was necessary to say something.”
“People?” Beatrice said. “I thought it was only Billy.”
Elder Jacobs said, “The attacks have mostly been on the Rangers as they patrol, which is how we’ve kept it quiet, but last night, some men comin’ home from the mill were ambushed. One of them died. News is jus’ startin’ t’spread. Captain, continue.”
Lee said, “One of my Rangers saw Miss O’Brien leaving the Firestone House on the first day of the festival. She was holding the flowers, and she was running, like she was afraid.”
“I wasn’t running,” Beatrice said. “I was only hurrying because I was late with the flowers.”
“What did you see there?” asked Elder Sutter.
Fear and panic knotted in her gut. She clasped her hands tightly, unsure of what to do.
Her father stood at her elbow. He laid a hand on her shoulder. In a low voice, he said, “Tell them, Bea. Tell them what happened.” He gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “There ain’t nothin’ that can’t be fixed.”
She worked her mouth, as if to swallow, but her tongue was too dry. Beatrice cleared her throat. What if she said nothing and they went to investigate? What would they find? What would Emmerich do? What if he really had hurt Billy? But what if he hadn’t?
Finally, she said, “I met a man there. He was angry with me that I cut his roses.”
The elders looked at each other, shades of alarm and fear on their faces.
An elder on the far-left end of the table cried, “Girl, what have you done to us? You’ve killed us!”
“Stop that,” snapped Elder Jacobs. “Let her tell the story before we start condemning. Go on, Beatrice.”
“He wanted me to pay,” Beatrice said, “but he didn’t have a need for money. So, I promised to visit him for every rose I took. I took three. I’ve visited him twice so far. He’s–he hasn’t tried to hurt me. I’m certain-”
“Did he tell you his name?”
Beatrice became painfully aware of the portrait hanging on the wall. It took every ounce of self-control to not look at it.
Papa gave her shoulder another squeeze.
After another breathless moment, she said, “Emmerich. His name is Emmerich Firestone. But he’s been kind to me.” Tears stung her eyes.
“He don’t need to hurt you,” spoke up another elder. “He done all the damage he could a hundred years ago. He’s the reason for the Haunted Ones.”
“I don’t understand.” Hadn’t the Haunted Ones always existed?
But she was already dismissed from the notice of the elders. They were talking to each other in low tones. Captain Lee and her father were the only two paying her any mind.
She looked at the Ranger Captain. “Sir, what did they mean?”
Captain Lee replied, “The Woods were always full of darkness and danger. But Emmerich Firestone, after he lost his oldest boy, tried to make a deal with the dark forces in the Woods to get his boy back. We don’t know what happened in that house, what became of his wife and the servants, but the men who went in to investigate came out as the Haunted Ones. There were only five to begin with. But every so often, they catch more men to add to their numbers. Men who wander off the path or draw too close to the Woods, alone.”
She wanted to deny it. She did not want to believe it. But then she remembered: “They came out, but they were different than when they entered.”
The little bubble of hope she had been carrying in her heart shattered. She thought she knew Emmerich. She’d convinced herself that he was just a poor, lonely person burdened by a curse. But, in that moment, she realized she did not know him at all.
“Beatrice,” Lee said, “fear is starting to spread in the town. Haven’t you noticed?”
Mrs. Powell’s angry face flashed through Beatrice’s mind.
“It’s decided.” Elder Jacobs’ voice rang through the small building. “Beatrice O’Brien, you’ll go to Firestone House for the third visit. But you are not to return. You must remain there. By God’s grace, that will bring an end to this sorry business.”
Bea shouted, “But— The roses—they don’t mean anything!”
“We lose two or three cows or pigs every summer. But no person died ‘til after you took the roses.” Pity filled his face. “We hope your sacrifice will be enough to appease the Woods and Emmerich Firestone, who brought the Haunted Ones upon us.”
AMAZING. I love the way the traditional themes and plot points of Beauty and the Beast have been turned on their head, without losing a sense of the original story. Beatrice’s internal dialogue and conflict is so nuanced and realistic, and this chapter took the plot in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but it totally makes sense. Looking forward to the next chapter after Easter!
I'm at the edge of my seat! What will happen next? Will Beatrice and the town be saved, and the curse be broken?