But at least this time Rose fetched Renée up from Downside first. Renée's been reacquainting herself with life; Charlie has been catching her up. Belle was a small child when her mother died, and her mother has spoken with her a little, but mostly wants to catch up on the past decades from Charlie, who is more or less as she left him.
Today Renée is ready, she says, to meet her son-in-law and grandchildren.
They walk, because why not. Céleste is obliged to leave Rainier at home; creatures more mythical than grandchildren are not for today's revelations for Renée. Renée is living with Charlie, of course, in his cottage that he has allowed Belle to renovate but not expand.
Belle knocks on the door. Charlie opens it, and holds out his arms to solicit hugs from granddaughters. Céleste provides gladly.
"All right." Belle thinks about mice, and spends a pentagon, and eventually she has the requisite skeleton alterations picked out. She conjures up an illusion of a dove-grey mouse with a twelve-inch feathery wingspan.
Belle dismisses it. "You may have one if you like, although you would need to look after it as Céleste does with Rainier."
"You would need to feed it - mice can eat most anything and so could one with wings - and make sure it had water and exercise. I would make it so it would be okay if it got lost - in case one day you don't want it anymore and you set it loose - but if you do lose it, you won't have it."
"You could put a little leash on it, or train it to come when you call it, or keep it in a cage most of the time."
"Rainier comes when Céleste calls him and he's also much larger than a mouse, so he would be harder to lose."
"A mouse with wings shouldn't be in a cage," she says. "And I don't think a leash would be very nice either. But I don't know how to make a mouse come when I call it."
"I could enchant it that way. If you want to train it, then you will need to do something else in the meantime while it is still being trained."
"All right." Belle pets her hair. "Anything else on your mind apart from winged mice?"
Over the ensuing months, Hyacinthe continues to think about winged mice. She does not ask for one, not even for her sixth birthday.
A week after she turns six, she is walking through the castle lost in thought, and when she looks up she is not in the castle at all.