The One With The Father, The Girl Who Liked Roses and The Beast

Once upon a time there lived a wealthy and important old merchant name Sir Jollie who had two daughters. The eldest daughter was beautiful and had a husband and her name was Treasure. The second daughter was not so beautiful (but not exactly like the back end of a carriage) and not married and her name was Patrice.
One day Sir Jollie received an invitation to a party from an even richer and more important merchant. The invitation was for Sir Jollie himself and one other of his choosing. Sir Jollie usually attended parties alone as his wife had died many years ago but that day he decided he would take his daughter, thinking to himself that it was time she got out and about and married as he wanted to polish his prize collection of uncut jewels on the dining table in his riding clothes whenever he wanted.
On the day of the party Treasure came to help because she said Patrice wasn’t much good at that sort of thing. Everyone knew it was because she wanted to see whether Treasure’s dress was as magnificent as the pink satin gown Sir Jollie had given her for her wedding party. Once she had seen Patrice’s blood red dress, even Treasure said she looked hot and gave her a tiara spangled with little rubies. And when Sir Jollie saw Patrice in her finery with her burnished brown hair, he thought that his second daughter looked just as beautiful as the first and was sure to attract a husband, but he was a wise man and kept quiet.
The party was held in a great hall hung with silken drapes the colour of moonlight and lit by lanterns suspended from the ceiling and flickering like stars. The guests danced to the music of the most famous lute and harpsichord players in the land and were serenaded by the legendary singer Sir Chillsport. Patrice was the centre of attention and barely had time to enjoy a glass of champagne between dances.
Sir Jollie was granted his wish when Patrice caught the eye of a handsome young merchant called Rupert. Rupert was the middle son of rich and powerful family named Grissom and everyone said the match was made in heaven. Soon the pair were married and after the wedding Sir Jolie sat at his dining table polishing opals in his shirtsleeves and riding britches with both his daughters all happily married.
All was well with young man and his bride. They took up residence in a house belonging to the Grissom family built in the old style with four round turrets, many, many rooms and a huge walled garden full of roses. The young man had duties that kept him at this father’s side for long hours and there were numberless household retainers to keep the woodwork polished and prepare the food so Patrice could have spent her days stretched on a velvet chaise longue listening to the latest tunes played by the household flautist but she didn’t enjoy idleness and decided to devote herself to gardening and breeding roses.
One afternoon Patrice was at her potting bench, grafting a Gloire de Dijon rose onto Alba rootstock just to see what would happen, when she was startled to hear the sound of hooves and realised she had lost all track of time as through the glasshouse window she saw her husband dismount in front of the house.
She could hear her husband call her name as she raced out of the glasshouse, along the corridor and through the hall, across the salon and the music room and the inner hall and into the lounge and into the outer hall only to find it empty. She looked up the stairs and saw no sign of her husband but then a terrible roaring shook her to the marrow. Mustering all her courage she peered up at the next landing and there above her was a monstrous bear, its terrible hairy paws with hooked yellow claws gripped the wooden rail while out of its red, slavering mouth came a fearsome roar. Patrice turned and ran away into the lounge and through the outer hall and then the inner hall and the music room and into the salon then out and into the plant house where she squeezed herself under the potting bench closed her eyes and quaked and shivered.
The next morning Patrice woke up to find the pillow next to her head heaped so high with roses that she could see nothing but pink petals and she sighed with happiness. All day she longed for Rupert’s return while she watched anxiously for the return of the bear.
That day she put up a tray of pelargonium cuttings and sowed cornflowers and marigolds in trays and wondered what she could do to pacify the bear. She had said nothing to any of the numerous servants because she was afraid they would tell her she had bought it on herself by getting so wrapped up in her work that she was not there to greet her husband or that she should avoid cheese at bedtime to avoid nightmares. At half past five she went to the hall and waited until she heard the sound of a horse then she peeked through a crack in the oak front door and saw her husband in all his youth and handsomeness and was overcome.
The next day, inspired by love, Patrice spent the day walking through the trial rose gardens to find a bloom fit to be named for her husband. Choosing between yellow for his sunny disposition or pink to match the glow of her skin when she thought of him or the tawny peach of Rupert’s complexion took many hours but by dusk she had three roses to choose from. She was lost in thought when the fearful roaring of the bear sounded from the house. She was terrified and froze to the spot clutching the three roses tight against her chest, eyes tight shut. But the ghastly creature lumbered into the glasshouse and found her. It growled and roared with its hideous snout close up to her face. On all fours it circled around her while her legs shook so she was barely able to hold up. With one sweep of its paw it ripped the roses from her hand and then rose up onto its back paws and stumped out into the garden where it and thrashed and roared till there was nothing but broken sticks left.
The next morning, she found her husband lingering over the breakfast table long after he would have left on business. “I thought I’d have the day off,” he said. “Shall we visit your father and take some strawberries?”
So they packed a hamper with strawberries and Rupert, winking, told the butler to add a bottle of the finest whisky it was sure to be more to his father in law’s taste.
Sir Jollie was delighted to see his daughter, impressed by the whisky and they shared a wonderful feast but he noticed she looked pale and anxious so while Grissom went to rouse the coachman, he asked Patrice if all was well.
“Oh yes…but…”
“But what?”
“Sometimes there’s a bear. A terrifying bear.”
“I’m sure you’ll tame it in time, my dear.” The merchant was not really sure what his daughter meant but there was Grissom coming back in and it would not do to meddle between husband and wife.
When Treasure came to visit she asked her sister how married life suited her. Patrice smiled and said it suited her well but Treasure saw the shadow that passed across the face.
“But there’s something bothering you. Tell your big sister.”
“It’s the bear and the terrible, terrible roaring. It’s not always here but I can’t seem to do anything that prevents it coming back.”
“What does Grissom say?”
“He says I should do nothing to provoke it.”
“Sensible advice.” Treasure was worried but then she looked around her at the calm and beautiful room with its tapestries and fine carving and at her sister’s silk dress and thought that this bear could not be so dreadful if he left the furnishings untouched. She looked at the smiling, friendly countenance on the painting of Rupert that hung over the fireplace and thought to herself that portraits never lied, “Husbands are never perfect however they seem at first.”
So Patrice lived with her husband and the bear for many years. She learned to carry an alarm clock with her into the greenhouse and while she propagated and pruned and potted, she worried away at schemes to rid herself of the bear.
One day in great distress her father summoned Patrice. He told her that his ship, the St Ocksand, had foundered far out in the ocean and was lost with all hands. Sir Jollie had lost not only his, but also four other people’s share of the cargo. He faced ruin and had already sold his collection of gemstones to compensate the families of the crew. Patrice went home greatly troubled.
Rupert noticed Patrice looked unhappy and asked her what was amiss. When she told him of her father’s misfortune, he said he would help and was so determined that the old man should not worry a moment longer that he rode out that very evening to tell his father-in-law the good news.
The next day as she disbudded the chrysanthemums, Patrice wondered why she had ever worried about the bear. When she went out into the rose garden she found that the blood red rose she had named Rupert was in bud and she resolved to show it to him as a token of her love. She spent the rest of the day arranging a celebration dinner.
That evening she and Rupert sat at their long dining table lit with silver candles and decorated with flowers while the maid carried dish after delectable dish to table. But Patrice noticed that her husband was not talkative and played with his food. As the final dish arrived, a quivering red jelly moulded in the shape of a rose, Patrice asked Rupert if something was troubling him. He did not answer straight away and she was occupied with admiring the jelly before slicing it up to serve. Then she looked up. Her mouth opened to scream soundlessly and a plate fell from her hands splattering clots of blood red jelly over the white cloth.
Muscular hairy forepaws swept down the table, the porcelain and silverware scattered clattering and smashing to the floor in pools of cream and gravy. Claws flashed though the air inches from Patrice’s face. She sat petrified, tears flooding from her eyes, as the bear thrashed from side to side slicing at the air, snarling and growling until it wore itself out, dropped to all fours, splintering a side table under his weight and slunk away.
Patrice rested her face in her hands and wept. When she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder she flinched and opened her eyes in terror but it was only the Mrs Hunter the maid.
She sunk down into a dining chair, “Pardon the presumption madam, but my knees are giving me jip.” She patted Patrice until her sobs subsided and then spoke,
“Us lot below stairs have been wondering if we should interfere or not. And seeing as I’ve grown up daughters of my own and have I’ve met many men and beasts in my time, I’ve decided it’s time to stick my neck out.”
“What do you mean Mrs Hunter?”
“Did you know you were marrying a bear?”
“No.”
“Do you think he can be tamed?”
“Not really.”
“When you were a little girl, did you dream of becoming a bear tamer?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll get a valise out of the cupboard, shall I?”
Patrice went to her father’s. She told him she was visiting for a few days while Grissom was busy and he didn’t ask any questions as he had troubles of his own.
The next day a messenger arrived with a note for Patrice. The note read “I will not feel under obligation to honour my promises to your father, if you do not honour your promises to me.” It was signed Rupert Grissom with no kisses.
Not wanting to add her own troubles to her father’s worries, Patrice kept a cheerful countenance and bustled about putting things in order that were already ordered. Her father wondered if her agitation was due to some women’s problem or perhaps she was with child but he decided not to ask as he didn’t like to talk about that kind of thing.
At two o’clock a carriage drew up before Sir Jollie’s mansion and, almost before its wheels had stopped turning, Treasure jumped out and ran up the path colliding with the page holding open the front door. She ran down the hall with her skirts tucked under her arm, straight past her father who was dozing in his favourite chair, caught Patrice’s arm and ran with her out into the garden. Sir Jollie woke and tottered after them dazed and alarmed but, remembering his earlier suspicions, he stopped at the french windows and left his daughters to themselves. He could still hear Treasure, whose voice was shrill with excitement,
“The bear! Patrice, the bear! I saw it.”
“How on earth?”
“I learned of Grissom’s generosity to father so I visited unexpectedly yesterday evening. Imagine I came to thank him! And I arrived as you were finishing dinner and I heard that terrible noise and I looked through the window and I saw.”
“Oh.”
“And then I ran away. I’m sorry I was such a coward and I’m so glad you are here. I should have helped you. You aren’t going back, are you?”
Patrice handed her Rupert’s note.
“But that’s blackmail.”
Sir Jollie stepped into the garden, “What’s blackmail?”