Beauty and Her Beast

That night Albert feasted as he had not done in years. There was lamb, goose, and even peacock to choose from. Course after course passed in front of him, carried by servants he did not care to notice, his attention only for the next delicacy.

When he was sated, he reclined in a steaming tub of scented water and scrubbed the road from his skin, luxuriating in the delicious novelty of the experience. He hadn’t been able to bathe his entire body at one time since he’d lost his fortune and been forced to sell his magnificent home. Since then he’d had to stand in a shallow tub of tepid water and wash himself with harsh lye soap hating every moment of it.

As he dried himself with a thick terry cloth towel, Albert moved around his room, enjoying the glint and gleam of the fire off of the crystal around him. He found a nightshirt of the softest silk laid out for him with a heavy, intricately woven rode.

His bed had been warmed with hot rocks and he sank into a feather mattress so devinly soft he almost wept, gratified that his luck was finally, finally changing. Perhaps the master of this house would consent to invest in his next enterprise, he could easily spare the coin.

In the morning, Albert woke to find a new suit of clothes, made of the richest velvet, hanging in the wardrobe. He also found silk undergarments, new stockings and supple leather boots that fit his feet perfectly. All these he donned, slipping a few of the golden utensils he had stolen at dinner last night up each billowing sleeve.

‘A house this large will not miss a few of these,’ he thought as he secreted them away.

After he was dressed he found a sumptuous breakfast of poached quail eggs, peppered bacon, and rich white rolls laid out for him in his ante-room. While dining he slid a few more utensils into his new boots and a jewel encrusted napkin ring found its way into his waistband.

“Is there anything else you require my lord?” Agnes inquired as she cleared away his plates.

Albert looked out the windows down onto a garden in full bloom.

“I think I would like to walk outside today,” he said as if he were the master of the house. “Which way to the garden?”

Agnes paused momentarily in her cleaning.

“I will show you sir, only…. Only, please do not wander into the gardens on the right of the path. Those are my Masters private gardens, and he would not take kindly to anyone going there. In fact, they are so precious to him, he tends to them personally.”

“Private gardens you say?” Albert inquired, a look of repugnance on his face. “Such a thing, to tend the soil with your own hands.”

“My master has a particular affinity for working with his hands,” Agnes explained. “These particular flowers are his pride and joy.”

“A man of such obvious wealth and importance must be allowed his own idiosyncrasies I guess,” Albert replied, thinking if he were to be rich again, he would never touch dirt willingly.

“This way if you will, sir,” Agnes said, motioning him towards the door.

She led him down unfamiliar twisting stairways and through long dim halls that he did not recognize from the night before. Sure they were lost, Albert was about to berate to senile old woman when he saw sunlight streaming in through a glass doorway ahead of them.

“Here you are sir,” Agnes bowed. “If you wouldn’t mind remaining in the gardens until I return for you, the halls and stairs of the manor can be confusing and you might become lost if you attempted to return to your rooms alone.”

“Of course,” Albert replied, hoping this old woman would leave him be. “I will await you here.”