Mrs. Beast Read Free

does not squall, not as the midwife bathes her, nor when she lay her on a bed of rose leaves, cleans her mouth with honey, wraps her in ermine skins and calls for the father.
         Marcel jumps at the sound of his name.   Violet and Daisy gallop down the hall in a cloud of talcum as their father holds a finger to his lips to quiet them.   When he turns his back to open the doors, they stick out their tongues. Marcel perches on the bed and his usual indifference to infants is stymied when Beauty lifts her long lashes and trills like a pigeon.   His heart goes flip-flop.
         She's a little beauty Antoinette croaks with her dying breath.   Marcel falls to the floor, weeping and tearing at his beard.   Violet and Daisy, their beady eyes gleaming over the foot board, exchange a conspiratorial glance.   Swift as a pair of weasels, they grab little Beauty and hightail it for the door.
         Elora elbows Croesus as the scene follows the sisters out-of-doors, and her own image appears in the crystal ball.   "Not bad, huh, hound?"   Croesus nods and watches as Elora pops out from behind a willow tree in her seven-year-old, carrot-topped, knock-kneed, front-toothless, freckle-faced girl disguise.   Daisy and Violet are momentarily diverted from dangling the wailing infant Beauty over the backyard well.
         Go ahead , the disguised Elora shouts, throw her in !
         Daisy releases Beauty's leg and Violet, gripping a plump ankle, swings the baby behind her back.   Hey, you can't tell us what to do.   She's ours .
         Daisy takes three steps toward Elora with clenched fists.   Get lost, toad face .   She picks up a stone and throws it at the girl enchantress.   I hope a big bad wolf eats your guts .    
         Violet drops Beauty on her head to join the stoning.   Elora retreats slowly,   her skinny wrists deflecting stones like Wonder Woman’s bracelets.   Once she spies Marcel on the threshold screeching, Where is little Beauty ? Elora vanishes into the forest.
         "What rotten rascals they were," Elora grumbles over her crystal ball and stomps her size 9 Bruno Magli   boot heel squarely on Croesus' tail.   The hound yelps and scurries under the bed.   "How satisfying it would have been back then to change Daisy into fox and Violet into a chicken.   But what's life without intrigue?   Boring.   Now, let us see if Beauty has ceased her inane sighing and gotten her arse in gear."
     
         *       *       *
     
         Beauty dons her navy blue riding cape, hefts her portmanteau, and descends the Grand Staircase. Luncheon clatters rises from the Great Hall: the clink of silver forks, the ringing of crystal goblets, and the tinkling of harpsichord. Beauty pictures Runyon’s long, delicate fingers playing the keys and her tattoo throbs.   She quickly draws open the Great Doors, ready to flee, then pauses on the thresh hold to bid farewell to the statues that encase her sisters. Staring at their frozen, frightful expressions, she recalls the last time she saw them in the flesh on her wedding day.
         Beauty's family had arrived in a golden carriage Runyon commissioned to impress his future in-laws.   Her father jumped from the carriage, broke into a buck and wing, and loudly proclaimed he'd known the Beast was a prince all along.   Violet emerged and stumbled into Daisy, who was dumbstruck gawking at the enormous white palace and the gorgeous Prince Runyon.
         While Beauty obediently made her father welcome, Violet and Daisy raced to their sister's bedroom.   Violet emptied an ink horn over the white satin wedding gown laid out on the bed.   Daisy tore her fingernails through the Belgian lace veil hanging from the wardrobe. They plucked every petal from her wedding bouquet and put rotten eggs in the toes of her wedding shoes, then hurried down to the Great Hall.
         Beauty knew nothing of these dastardly deeds because Elora repaired the