"After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom." Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

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XV.

Belle knew enough of written English to recognise her name. She could read and write that well enough and was clever enough to know that her name was quite plastered all over the newspaper that the duke had had delivered to Ashwood House all the way from London.

"Thank the Lord that Susanna and Alex are away on their wedding journey," Grace murmured as she read over Adam's shoulder, taking in what the newspaper had to say.

The duke did, indeed, look very seriously displeased as he read. Belle did not think that she had ever seen the duke appear so serious and angry. How she wished that she could read the newspaper, too. Selfishly, she wanted to know what they had said about her. She wanted to know what they were writing. If her name was in conjunction with Susanna's, then Belle worried that it was not good. Surely, they were speaking negatively about a lady, such as Susanna, marrying a black freedman. Certainly, they would have a similar view on her black wedding gown designer.

"Ignorant twits, the lot of them," cursed Adam. "How dare they write of Susanna in such a way and cast Alex in such a poor light. What do they know? I have half a mind to set Mother on them all."

"Cecily does have a copy of the same newspaper up in her bedroom with her breakfast. I would wager she might be halfway to London by now," replied Grace. "You know what they are like in London. As soon as any of the gossip mongers catch a taste of a scandal, they run with it, spreading it about like wildfire without a care for the damage caused. They did the same thing when you married me, don't you recall?"

Adam's face, if it could be believed, fell even deeper into a furious expression. "Yes, I do remember what these bloody rags said about you, Grace," he said through gritted teeth.

Belle had become aware of the fact that before she had become Adam's wife, and the Duchess of Ashwood, Grace had been employed as a maid in this house. Learning that had been of great comfort to Belle, to know that there were truly good masters.

But clearly, as evidenced by the obviously negative story about Susanna and Alex in the newspaper, the London press had not received the news of a servant duchess well.

"It will die down just as soon as the newest scandal erupts," Grace assured her husband. "And while I would never wish for misfortune to befall anybody, it is inevitable that it will. When the press realise that they will not get any more of a story from Susanna and Alex, as they plan to make their lives quietly here, they will move on."

Belle knew that it was not right, that it was highly selfish and inappropriate, to ask the duke to read the newspaper aloud. She remained silent as she consumed her breakfast, while their small party was joined by Jack, who was dressed very casually in a light pair of breeches and a lazily buttoned shirt.

"And what a merry party we are this morning," Jack commented as he swiped a pear from the tureen of fruit before plopping down into a chair beside his brother. "Who died?"

"Our sister's reputation," muttered Adam as he folded the newspaper shut and discarded it on the table. He then reached for his cup of tea and drank the lot in one go.

Jack bit into his pear. "What fun is a good reputation anyway?" he asked, his mouth full. "I, myself, have a little experience with scandal."

"No, really?" asked Adam facetiously.

Jack smirked. "It's healthy to break the rules now and then. It keeps society on their toes. Pushes them in the right direction, you know?"

"I am glad that you are so optimistic," returned Adam.

"Susanna is happy," Jack said simply. "Who cares a wit what bloody Roger and his wife, Betsy, down in Cheapside have to say?" He laughed as he took another bite. "Scandals are always easier to bear when you have a loving partner by your side." Thoughtfully, he added, "As is life. Don't you agree, brother?"

Grace rubbed Adam's arm and he caught her hand with his and squeezed it. Such a simple display of regard affected Belle.

"Yes," agreed Adam. "You are right, Jack."

"Brilliant. Do me a favour, would you? Say that exact statement again, only this time in earshot of Mother."

Adam's irritation and fury melted away and he laughed, his mood eased by his brother. Belle admired such affection between the brothers. In fact, she admired the easy affection between the entire Beresford family, and their extended relatives in the Denhams. They all really loved one another.

Belle felt a yearning in her chest to belong to it. A large piece of her wanted to be a part of it, of it all.

When breakfast was concluded, and the Beresfords had moved on from the dining room to go about their days, Belle could not help herself as she swiped the discarded newspaper from the table.

The headline was printed in bold, black letters.

SCANDAL BLACKENS THE HOUSE OF ASHWOOD

As Belle walked into the village that morning, she tried her hardest to read what just the headline had to say. She could recognise the letters, and she recalled some of the sounds, but something in her head prevented her from comprehending what it meant. It did not help that there were many, many English words that she was still yet to learn, and she hoped that the reason she could not read even the mere headline was because of the English, and not because she was a fool.

As Belle sewed that morning, she abandoned the headline, and continued on trying to find words within the article that she could read.

And ... but ... wed ... can ... go ... from ...

The words were few and far between, and Belle began to grow increasingly frustrated with herself as she struggled to make any sense of it.

But her name, she recognised. Belle Desjardins. Belle Desjardins. Belle Desjardins. Her name was written five times throughout the article that she could count, and yet she had no idea what they were saying about her.

To be named so publicly was new, and quite possibly dangerous for Belle. And she didn't want to think of the danger.

Belle paid little attention to the chime of the bell as it rung over and over throughout the morning as Mr Andrews' customers came and went. Nobody ventured over to Belle's table and owing to the ease in which sewing came to her, she could mend and try to read at the same time.

It was not until half past ten that morning that someone did approach her table. Belle's eyes looked up, though not to the person's eyes. She never did that when a stranger approached her. But when she saw and recognised the way this customer walked, she did look up. It would have startled Belle a little longer that she could recognise Peter by the way he walked had she not been so eager to meet his gaze.

Peter was smiling at her, and Belle could not help but smile back at him. She felt a wave of ease settle over her, as though Peter's presence was a calming state of safety, and Belle's frustrations melted away, albeit temporarily.

"Good morning," he greeted in a soft, familiar tone.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice startlingly hoarse with surprise. She anxiously cleared her throat.

"I have brought you a gift," he said, sounding rather proud and excited as he produced a parcel wrapped in brown paper. "It is the one I spoke of yesterday."

Belle's frustrations had only been temporarily stopped. When she realised what Peter was holding out to her, she felt frustrated, and completely embarrassed. But despite feeling this way, Belle reminded herself to focus on the kindness that Peter was showing her. He was proud of himself, and he was gifting her the evidence of pursuing one's dreams. Peter wanted to share this with Belle, and she would not ruin it with her own faults and shortcomings.

Belle accepted the parcel with a smile and laid it down on the table in front of her. She could see on Peter's face that he was anxious for her to open it. Belle pulled on the string that was fastening the gift and carefully unfolded the paper, removing from it a small book that looked so new that not even the spine was creased.

"It is the first book that Jack and I ever published," Peter told her proudly. "If you open the cover, on the inside there," he waited for Belle to comply, "you can see the Beresford Press stamp." He grinned. "What's more, and what is very important to Jack, is that this book was written by a woman, and it was just as successful as if a man had written it. Jack plans on leaving his half of the publishing house to his daughter. Daughters now, I suppose. It is important to him that we normalise women in publishing and print, as he wants his girls to have the opportunity and the power to be businesswomen one day. I fully support the idea. If I ever had a daughter, I have my half to bequeath as well." Peter's cheeks suddenly flushed, and he suddenly grew bashful, scratching the side of his head awkwardly. "Not that I am ... suggesting ... or forcing ... or expecting ..." he trailed off.

Belle had always enjoyed Peter's bashfulness. While she did still enjoy it, her amusement was stunted by the very fact that she hadn't gotten lost in the English. She had understood his meaning, and she knew what he was trying to backtrack out of.

A child. Their child.

Belle could see in Peter's eyes that he was not backtracking for lack of want. He was doing it out of courtesy to her. Peter could see that in their future. God bless him, Peter seemed as though he was making plans for that in their future.

Peter believed that he had a future with Belle. Peter actually wanted a future with Belle. Could it be possible that Peter might love Belle one day?

She could not look away from him. She could not look away from his handsome, youthful, innocent face. Only a short time ago, Belle had believed that she was barren, destined to never have a child, but now she knew that was not the case. It was possible. She was able if God allowed it, and Belle knew that if she allowed herself to think on it for too long, then she would begin to mourn. Because even if she was able, she would never be able to bear Peter's child ... the one he wanted to leave his publishing house to.

Belle was attached to him in every way possible. He was right in front of her and her head was telling her to mourn him, to mourn the life that they could never have. This was why she had pulled away. This was why she had meant to stay away. She hadn't meant to grow attached. She hadn't meant to start falling in love.

But it had happened, slowly and quickly at the same time. Her heart had claimed a man that she could never have, and what a wicked, cruel fate that was.

Belle could never be married to Peter.

"I hope you like it," Peter finally said, still as bashful as ever. "I promise it is a good read. Jack never chooses anything less than."

Belle realised right in that moment that she wanted that future ... the one that Peter was quite possibly envisioning. But ...

Belle could never be married to Peter.

"Peter," whispered Belle, the truth on her lips. But even as she wanted to say it, another truth escaped. "I cannot read."

Peter's face fell, and Belle watched as he turned nine shades of purple. "Oh," he realised, completely embarrassed. "Oh, forgive me, Belle. Forgive my ignorance ... my complete lack of tact and care. Forgive me, please."

Belle started to tremble uncontrollably. Had she confessed this truth at any other moment, she would have felt humiliated, but that was not what she was feeling. She felt the heavy weight of devastation in her chest.

All because Belle could never be married to Peter.

"Please ... let me," Peter implored, carefully making his way around her table with his arms extended. He gently placed his arms around her, and Belle's traitorous body leaned into his embrace. "Hush, hush, please," he said softly. "You need not be ... ashamed ... if that is what you are feeling. There is no shame in this. If you would like ... if you would let me, I could help you."

Peter wanted to make it alright. Care and tenderness flooded his tone and Belle yearned for it. She yearned for it all.

But Belle could never be married to Peter.

How could she be when she was already married to someone else?

----

*stretches*

*kickes up my leg like Alice in the Twilight baseball scene*

*freakin YEETS this bomb alllllllllllllllllllll the way over to you*

*explodes*

*takes bow*

Didn't I tell you .... I'm evil?

But you, of course, already knew that ;)

What a week! What a day! 

I bought a car today!! It's on order, so I won't have it for a while, but that was still super exciting. I've had my current car for eight and a bit years, so well due for an upgrade! 

I also have one more week with my kiddos. When I speak to you next, I will have said goodbye to them. I'm not ready. For those who might be confused, in the Southern Hemisphere, our school year goes by the calendar, January to December, with the students moving onto the next grade the following January. So one more week. One more week to love on my munchkins before they leave me *sobs*. They have been soooo crazy attached to me this last week. I can't walk anywhere without one of them, or a whole lot of them hugging me like crazy. 

It is honestly the biggest privilege to be one of the most important adults in their life, and I don't take that responsibility lightly. 

I'm just thankful that when they move onto the next grade, their classrooms are just down the hall, so I've told them all they have to come and visit me. 

Let's start the bets here: will Laura weep on Friday? 

Vote and comment xx