As the sun rose, the beautiful rays of light illuminated the town. It was a picturesque town; each home and building seemed to be in symmetry, almost like something out of a storybook or a fairytale. And at the edge of the town, where there was room enough for a garden and a stable, lay a small but comfortable cottage. The family that resided in the cottage had once been a family of three.
The family had moved to the town when the child was still a babe in her mother's arms. The father had been something of an inventor in Paris and the mother had the luxury of being one of the most well-read women of her age. They had met in one of the many gardens in Paris. From then it was love at first sight, and the two wed months after they first met.
The man, named Maurice, had come from a moderately well-off family that had sparse connections to the nobility, but he was a younger son. Thus he had decided on a career to make his fortune and provide for his family. The woman, called Colette, had no fortune to speak of as her family was in trade but they had educated her with an education worthy of any princess or queen. Neither family could find serious fault with their choice of spouse, her lack of dowry notwithstanding.
Shortly after they married, they moved into a charming, if not slightly older, home on the outskirts of Paris, where they had a beautiful view of Notre Dame. It was there that Maurice worked on his inventions, but made his fortune mostly by painting pictures for the upper classes. One of his distant cousins, who had married a titled gentleman, had taken pity on her younger cousin, whom she remembered fondly from her youth and commissioned a painting or two from him. No one was as surprised as he when it turned out that he might be a success. Colette worked in her family's shop, unorthodox at the time, but they cared not for society's expectations.
A few years into their marriage, they were blessed with the news that they would be adding a new addition to their family. And months later they were blessed with a beautiful baby girl they named Belle. For she was as beautiful as her name promised even as an infant, and they loved her so. Less than a year after she was born, the plague swept through Paris, taking both their families. Maurice inherited his brother's fortune, but no sooner had the papers been signed he bundled his wife and his daughter away to a distant town called Villeneuve, deep in the country to try and save them from the illness that had cost them both their families.
It was there that the girl, Belle, learned to read in the comfort of her family's cottage. Educated by a mother who had learned the value of education from her own family, she taught her daughter the joys of reading and writing. And her father brought her to his workshop ever since she was a baby in her cradle. And still, when she was old enough to sit at an easel and a pianoforte, her father taught her about the arts, passing on his love of the arts to her. He told her stories that his parents had told him. They had several happy years, but the happy days could not last forever.
When Belle was not yet nine, her mother became ill. Her mother had always had a weak constitution and despite the idea that the hearty country air would be better for her, her lungs had weakened. She coughed constantly and tired easily. And the local doctor only confirmed what Maurice already understood, his wife was dying and there was nothing that he was able to do. He tried to gently prepare his daughter for the worst. Belle had taken the news as best a child could and she tried very hard to be strong for both her parents. She often read to her mother, a book of poetry that her mother claimed her father had wooed her with and though it was well worn, it was much beloved and a great comfort to her mother in her last days. When Colette died days later, the father and daughter grieved terribly but they found comfort in the thought that she would be well in heaven and looking down upon them.
And eventually the pain faded as most do, but her mother was never far from her thoughts. Her father spent more time on her education and devoted himself to his daughter like never before. And despite their loss, Belle enjoyed a very happy childhood. The bond between father and daughter was unlike any other in the village. And as Belle became an adult, there was one thing more than abundantly clear to her father; she had inherited her mother's beauty as well as her spirit.
Belle had matured from a pretty child into a beautiful young woman who inspired both admiration and jealousy. Girls in the village disliked her pretty brown hair and brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with some unknown secret. They scoffed at her simple dress and mocked her general disdain for all finery. But secretly they admired her fine—aristocratic looks for she had the fine boned look of the nobility, unseen in the village, where most could claim no ties to the upper crust of society. Some even subtly tried to copy her dress, but it didn't seem to make any difference to the men of the village—they were attracted to her and not her dress.
To the boys and men of the village, she was considered quite the beauty. But most found it odd how she seemed to have such singular interests, such as reading or playing the pianoforte. She never seemed interested in flirting with any of the men in the village, she was very polite but her politeness never seemed to contain any hint of flirtation nor did she play the coquette. It was true that they might admire her comely looks but they often did not desire a future with a girl with her head stuck in a book. But ever oblivious, Belle was completely unaware of her admirers and her jealous peers.
And on this morning, it began very much like many of the others. At precisely eight, Belle exited her father's home, basket in hand. Smiling, she had tucked the book she was to return to the bookseller that morning and made her way to the center of town. Simply attired in her usual blue dress and white apron, she tied her hair back with a ribbon that matched her dress. As she made her way into the heart of town, she smiled as she greeted the baker. "Bonjour, monsieur."
"Bonjour, Belle. How are you?" He asked as Belle purchased a loaf of bread. "Fine, monsieur. I just finished reading the most wonderful book about a beanstalk and an ogre and a—" "That's nice." He cut her off before calling to his wife to bring the baguettes. Belle simply smiled and headed on her way. She made a few more purchases as she headed towards the bookshop.
"Ahh, Belle," the bookseller said when he saw her enter. "Good morning, sir. I've come to return the book I've borrowed," Belle replied. "Finished already?" He asked incredulously.
"Oh I couldn't put it down, have you got anything new?" Laughing he replied, "Not since yesterday."
"That's all right. I'll borrow…this one!" The bookseller looked at the book and replied, "That one? But you've read it twice."
"Well, it's my favorite! Far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise…" "If you like it all that much, it's yours!" "But sir," she protested. "I insist." He replied firmly. Belle offered him another smile before saying, "Thank you! Thank you very much!"
Belle found herself wandering around town once more, with her favorite book in hand. She couldn't help herself from sitting down at the fountain in the center of town. As she read through the pages, she found herself saying to only the sheep around her, "Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you'll see. Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three!" And it was in moments like that she wished she had her mother there to be able to share in her love. Oblivious to the looks that she was attracting, she continued to read for a few minutes more before leaving to make her way through the rest of her errands.
"She rather odd, isn't she?" Three young women stood in the dressmaker's shop, at another fitting for new dresses. The dressmaker had just commented on how it was no wonder that her name meant beauty, as Belle had passed by the shop, ignoring the chaos around her. "It's a pity and a sin, she doesn't quite fit in." Another agreed as they watched her, they found her pretty but no prettier than themselves. Their vanity was their greatest sin, coupled with their silliness, they were never quite able to capture the attention of the man they admired most of all—Captain Gaston.
If Belle was the most beautiful woman in town, then Gaston was the most handsome man in town—and unlike Belle who was seemingly unaware of her prettiness, Gaston was very clearly aware that he was no man's equal. Tall, dark and handsome with an excellent sense of style and even higher sense of self-worth, he was the man that the three girls—and most others—swooned over, all except for one, the girl he desired the most. He used his war hero status to both awe women and intimidate men, but he was most beloved by the townspeople for saving the town during the war, which had occurred a few years prior. Basking in the delight of those who adored him, he was only made more arrogant by the presence of his oldest friend and faithful sidekick, Lefou.
Lefou was not what one would consider attractive, his physique would never compare to his friend's but he had a certain kindness and craftiness that his friend lacked. Some might even say he was a dumb as a fox. He was as quiet as Gaston was loud. And he had the distinction of being one of the only people who Gaston might listen to and he tried to exert his, limited as it may be, influence on his friend the best he could. And on this morning, as they rode into town with their kills, he was surprised to hear his friend say, "There she goes—my future wife. Belle is the most beautiful girl in the village, that makes her the best." Both had noticed her, petting a horse, and speaking with its owner from the hill which they were traveling down.
Protesting, Lefou said, "But she's so well read… And you're so athletically inclined." He could never picture the two of them together and happy. Gaston didn't read—even though he was able to and Belle had no interest in Gaston's accomplishments. She would never compliment him the way the others did and there was one thing Lefou understood about Gaston was that his ego needed stroking most of the time.
Gaston lamented, "Yes, but ever since the war, I've felt like I've been missing something. She's the only one who gives me that sense of—" "Je ne sais quoi?" Lefou offered. "I don't know what that means," Gaston replied as he urged his horse down the hill, Lefou dutifully trotting after him.
"Right from the moment, when I met her, saw her, I said she was gorgeous and I fell. Here in town, there's only she who's as beautiful as me. So I'm making plans to woo and marry Belle." He told Lefou as they disembarked from their mounts.
Gaston heard the squeals of three of his most ardent admirers; he refrained from rolling his eyes even though he was half tempted to do so. Their frank admiration and their willingness to make fools of themselves to catch his attention would have appealed to him once, but there was no challenge when something is freely offered. Instead, he found them both annoying and boring. As he turned and left the square, he heard Lefou tell—and not for the first time, "Not going to happen, ladies," as they pouted when he ignored them once more.
Gaston leisurely strolled towards the flower market, Lefou trailing behind him. "I'd like to purchase these," he informed the woman there, who offered him a smile as she arranged the bouquet. He couldn't help himself from telling her and anyone nearby, "Just watch, I'm going to make Belle my wife," with a conspiratorial wink. Though the villagers might all admire Gaston, even they were quite unsure if he would be able to win the hand of the woman that everyone was in agreement about—she was a funny girl, a beauty but a funny girl.
Gaston managed to catch up with Belle as she was beginning to return home. "Good morning, Belle," he offered with his most charming smile. Belle offered a smile in return as she politely replied, "Bonjour Gaston."
"Lovely book you have there," he said finally. Belle raised an eyebrow as she replied hesitatingly, "Have you read it?" "Well, no," Gaston admitted, "but I have read books before." She offered a small smile, how like Gaston, she thought privately. She was trying to think of an excuse to leave when she noticed the way he was looking at her as if he wished to say something more and that's when she noticed the flowers.
"These are for your table," he hastily thrust the flowers towards her, surprising her but she made no motion to accept the bouquet as pretty as it was while she pondered how it would be most polite to reject his offering. He made it rather easy for her when he said, "Shall I join you for dinner?"
So that was his angle, Belle thought, as she demurred, "Not tonight." "Busy?" He replied, almost hopefully, to which she said, "No, not busy." Before excusing herself with a smile, she hurried towards her house, leaving Gaston standing there with his flowers in his hand. Lefou approached him cautiously as he watched her figure fade from view.
"Moving on?" He asked hopefully, there was but a slim chance that Gaston would be willing to move on from Belle after her rejection. But if he knew Gaston, he would find her rejection more exciting and would only spur him on.
"No, Lefou," confirming Lefou's thoughts. "It's the one's that play hard to get that are the sweetest reward. That's what makes Belle so appealing. She's never made a fool of herself trying to gain my favor. What would you call that?" He asked, absentmindedly as he vowed to double his attempts to win her heart.
"Dignity," came Lefou's dry reply. "It's outrageously attractive, isn't it?" He countered as he thrust the flowers into Lefou's waiting hands. He would win Belle's hand, the challenge had always inspired him and Belle would be no different at the end of the day. After all, no one ever said no to Gaston. As he silently vowed to win her hand, so began another ordinary day in the provincial town of Villeneuve.
A/N: This will hopefully be novel length, with emphasis on character study. My apologies in advance for some of the slower moving parts.