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"We did nothing,” Mrs. Potts’s words keep echoing in my head. They’ve been haunting me ever since my fellow servants and I left our Master’s chambers for the night, nearly an hour ago. We know he is in good hands with Belle, so there is no need for us to stick around.
Oh, who am I kidding?! We left because we are cowards- we cannot bear to face him any longer. Not since Mrs. Potts told Belle the terrible truth.
Wait- Is that? Yes, yes it is- Belle. She is heading back toward the east wing. Adam must be asleep now, or at least resting.
I turn to leave- mon chèrie Lumière is waiting for me, after all. But something stops me. Almost without realizing it, I head back to the west wing. Something is beckoning me there. I do not know what, but it is very powerful.
There he is- sleeping, just as I suspected. He looks so innocent, so vulnerable. How can this possibly be the same creature that refused shelter to an elderly woman and scared Belle so much that she fled the castle? He…mon dieu! He has been crying! I feel a tugging- right where my heart would be, were I still human. He deserves better than us. And I in particular do NOT deserve to even be in his presence. Not after what I did to him.
I first met Prince Adam when he was four years old. I was ten at the time, an orphaned, prepubescent girl fleeing Plague-ridden Paris (even now I have nightmares- the stench, the doctors with the frightening masks…the anguish in Papa’s eyes as he orders me to leave before the horrible disease claims me as it already has Maman and will soon him).
The sweet, innocent little boy quickly became my best friend, the little brother I had longed and prayed for for years. We were practically inseparable. Whether it was going for a dip in the lake when it was summer, skating on its frozen surface when it was winter, pushing each other on the tree swing, or chasing each other ‘round the gardens, we did practically everything together.
Even on rainy days we never ran out of things to do. We would play hide and seek in the many corridors and rooms of the castle, work on an art project (I’ve always had a love for drawing, painting and the like and I wanted to do what I could to nurture it in Adam as well), or bake (something Cuisinier did not always appreciate; we were admittedly a lot better at mixing and measuring than at cleaning up!).
Of course, there were also less pleasant moments. I will certainly never forgot the night that Adam burst into my room, terrified and sobbing after witnessing the brutalization of his mother at the hand of his monster father. I was so upset I was barely able to keep it together enough to comfort him (even now the memory makes me want to retch!).
It was hardly news to me that the King was unkind to his wife. I- along with the rest of the staff- had frequently heard him yelling at her. And given his violent temper (which we had witnessed first-hand many times)- along with the fact that the Queen at times vehemently refused her lady-in-waiting’s help with any sort of personal care that involved her being partially or fully nude- we had long suspected that the abuse went far deeper than cruel words.
But suspicion is one thing, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt is another. And the thought of Adam having to see such a horrible act…it had been almost too much for me to bear. Not knowing what to say (as if words could have possibly helped anyway!), I simply held him, singing softly to him until Chapeau came along to collect him for bed- as much for my own comfort as his!
As traumatic as that experience was, however, it paled in comparison to the tragedy that struck just a few years later. I still remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday- the awful day on which the kindhearted, gentle Queen slipped away from us. Even though she had never been strong (she got sick far more than the rest of us and Adam’s difficult birth- which she almost hadn’t survived- had left her bedbound for a month), her passing still came as a shock to us.
And it had fallen to me to tell Adam- to break an eleven year-old’s heart. What happened when I did still haunts me to this day. For the first time in his life, he pushed me away, yelling that I was a heartless liar. But most chilling of all- for one brief moment, just before he fled to his mother’s chambers, the eyes staring back at me were not his own. They were his father’s, cold and cruel.
The days and weeks immediately following are pretty much a blur to me. I remember days spent mindlessly attending to my duties while my fellow servants did the same, the castle nearly silent (even the omnipresent sound of singing and harpsichord music was gone- Garderobe and Cadenza didn’t know the Queen as well as the rest of us had, but they had liked her and grieved none the less).
And endless nights of crying myself to sleep wrapped in my Lumière's arms- then taking solace in his embrace yet again when I inevitably woke in a panic in the middle of the night, my latest cauchemar still terrifyingly fresh in my mind (neither of us had given any thought to rules and propriety- we needed each other and that was that!).
But above all us, I remember trying in vain to console Adam. But he hadn’t wanted my comfort- or anyone’s. He hadn’t even wanted to be AROUND anyone- except for Chapeau. Perhaps this was because the quiet valet had understood his pain in a way the rest of us could not.
Chapeau, you see, had been deeply in love with the Queen, and she with him. He had given her the care and affection that her husband would not, doing what little he could to protect her from the other man’s violence (though I wouldn’t dream of asking- it wouldn’t be right to broach such a personal and painful topic- I strongly suspect that Chapeau was also the one person to whom the Queen showed her “battle scars” and divulged the true extent of the horrors she was forced to repeatedly endure.).
And it was in Chapeau’s arms that Adam’s mother drew her last breaths (a fact he did not divulge to the rest of us until years later). The man I have always thought of as an uncle has been in mourning ever since, still wearing head-to-toe black (save for his wig) on that fateful night when a single rose quite literally transformed us all.
But at least he was more or less allowed to grieve, unlike Adam. The boy’s wretched father wouldn’t even allow him to say good-bye properly! My blood boils at the memory (or at least it would if I actually HAD blood!).
The King insisted that it was “improper and foolish” for a man to focus on “such things”. Even the simple act of daring to shed a tear was enough to earn a beating. The first time this happened, Adam attempted to escape to his mother’s prized rose garden. But his father quickly found him- and forced him to grip one of the flowers by its stem until the thorns drew blood from his fingers. Never since has he sought comfort amongst the blossoms.
He had also very quickly learned not to go to any of us for help- Because we valued our jobs more than an innocent child’s feelings and well-being! I want to cry- what a cruel irony that feather dusters cannot. As ashamed as I am to admit it, I actually witnessed the rose garden incident, along with a few others. And I did not offer a hug or encouraging words- or even a friendly smile. I did not hurry to tend Adam’s wounds. The only thing I did was stand there and watch.
How could I?! How COULD I?! He was one of my best friends, my little brother- and I turned my back on him when he needed me the most. I reach out one of my wings and begin stroking Adam’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Adam. What we did- what I did- is inexcusable. I should have stood up for you and been there for you. Frankly I am surprised that you do not despise me by now,” my voice catches for a moment. “Obviously I cannot change the past- but I promise you that I will not leave you to suffer alone any longer. I will not abandon you twice”.
“I will not abandon you twice,” I repeat, bending my head down and giving Adam’s furry cheek a gentle tap with my beak (in another cruel irony, it is the closest I can get to a friendly kiss). Then I depart the west wing for the second time that night. Adam needs his sleep- and ma Lumière needs his dance partner!