Chapter Three: A Celebration
1758
"And with this ring, I thee wed."
"And with this ring, I thee wed," said the groom, his stomach in knots. He looked across into the eyes of the woman he loved, and smiled when the twinkle inher eyes matched his. He found it hard to believe it was all really happening. It was not so long ago that he had resigned himself to never loving again; the memories of his beloved Elizabeth never leaving his mind, even after all these years. Now, as the midday sun streamed through the chapel windows and hit the ring in his hand, making it sparkle, he knew that wherever she was now, she was happy for him. His heart swelled with happiness within his chest as his wife-to-be recited her vows, her beautiful and kind eyes never leaving his.
It had been so unexpected yet somehow inevitable-the two of them finding love. That moment in the castle ballroom eight years ago surrounded by all manner of people, young, old, rich, poor, all gathered in one place and all eyes focused on the young couple dancing in front of them. He had been close to tears then-sad because he was losing his daughter, happy because he was losing her to true love and the man of her dreams…and in such unusual circumstances!
As the prince swept Belle off her feet into another embrace, he had heard a child's voice beside him.
"Are they going to live happily ever after, Mama?"
He had turned to see a lady and her son, Mrs. Potts and Chip, two of the servants that had been so kind to him on that fateful night when he has lost his way in the woods. He had found it difficult to believe that the cheery teapot and mischievous tea cup he remembered from then were beside him now, human again and as real as the dancing lovers. She had sighed and, glassy-eyed, held her son tighter to her chest.
"Of course, my dear. Of course."
"Do I still have to sleep in the cupboard?"
The remark was so innocent, so blissfully child-like that Maurice had smiled, then chuckled, and so had she. He remembered thinking her laugh was delightful and then their eyes had met, and he had thought how pleasing her smile was, and how the bond between her and Chip was like the one between himself and Belle. There was nothing so beautiful to behold in the world as a parents love for a child. That had been the moment. He had asked her to dance that very night. Their dance had led to a friendship, then a companionship which had then over the years blossomed into love. And now here they were, eight years later, and he was finally making an honest woman of her.
"By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
As they kissed, the entire chapel erupted into cheers and applause. The Queen of France leapt up from her seat and ran to embrace her father and then her new step-mother. Her husband, King Vincent, was too late to fondly scold her that attacking her father before he'd walked back up the aisle was a little unorthodox. 'But then, nothing has been 'orthodox' since the day we met', he smiled to himself. It was all part of the fairy-tale their life had become.
Shortly after the breaking of the curse and the ballroom dance that sealed their love, he had announced his return to the kingdom. After much deliberation, and much advice from Cogsworth (some wanted, some not), the prince had told the people the tale of the last ten years of time he had spent as a prisoner of a great and fearsome Beast and how a brave young woman had freed him from his fate with love and devotion. They had defeated the Beast together and emerged triumphant, married and lived happily ever after. It was not the truth but it was not really a lie either, and the kingdom had been delighted to get their crown prince back. The parliament that had been elected to rule in the absence of the monarchy were also delighted as their constant arguments and disagreements had reached crisis point. The re-appearance of their prince could not have come at a better time. The people were even more delighted to witness that he had transformed from the spoilt and unkind boy they had known into a wise and noble young man.
Eight years on, life was still good. He caught his father-in-law's eye and nodded respectfully. He owed the old man a lot-it was wonderful to see him so happy, and with his much adored housekeeper too. It was strange how things had turned out. He smiled and got up to accompany his wife, who had now apparantly decided she was going to escort her father and his bride back up the aisle.
Evelyn D'Aubigne, nee Potts, laughed joyfully as she prepared to take her first steps down the aisle with her new husband, only to find the King and Queen of France beside them in the procession instead of behind them. Somewhere, Cogsworth would be seething. A young man with untidy dark blonde hair suddenly appeared beside her, wearing a slightly crumpled shirt and a coat with sleeves that were already looking too short for him. Goodness, how much taller was he going to get? He was already taller than herself and Maurice, and now in danger of catching up with Lumiere. He grinned at her, his cheeky, lopsided grin, and kissed her cheek.
"Congratulations, Mama."
"Thank-you, Chip"
Her son grinned again and placed her arm in his. Evelyn laughed.
"Chip, this front row is already in danger of intruding into the pews. Why don't you follow behind, dear, like we planned in rehearsal?"
His expression turned to one of mock horror.
"But I haven't finished giving you away yet! It is my duty, remember?"
"Well, if you're next to me, then where is the princess going to walk? You can't just leave her to walk behind by herself now, can you?"
Chip pointed towards the other end of the row where 7-year-old Princess Raisse was giggling as she was plucked from the floor into her father's arms.
"Very well then! Be on your best behaviour, mind!"
Chip immediately obliged by standing ram-rod straight, sticking his nose in the air and moving as if to march his mother up the aisle like a soldier.
"Chip!" sighed Evelyn, exasperated.
That was Chip. Always the joker. She couldn't remember the last time he had been serious for longer than a few minutes. She knew his behaviour annoyed some of the household. Cogsworth in particular did not seem to appreciate it, and the young princess had avoided him ever since he had almost made her ill by spinning her around too vigorously in the gardens a week previously. He apparently had an endless supply of energy, often having to resort to long walks with Sultan the dog or the horses to expend it when nobody else could keep up with him. As a result, he was often alone.
Evelyn could not stop worrying about him. Even today, the happiest day of her life, as he had proudly given her away and was now making the procession giggle with his overly-pompous walking, she sensed something was troubling him, deep beneath the surface where nobody else could see it. Was his clownish manner a mask, a charade, hiding something? She hoped her instinct was wrong, tried to dismiss it as her own over-anxious mind working against her. Was she just fussing unnecessarily, driven by her own secret turmoil? He was growing up fast, and she was dreading the moment when she would have to tell him the truth about his heritage. He had never asked her, which she found unusual, especially as he was such an inquisitive child, asking questions about everything except himself, yet surely, somewhere inside, he must know that she was not his true mother. He had Catherine's unruly hair that somehow managed to look messily adorable, her angelic and infectious smile. No doubt he would grow up as handsome as she had been beautiful, but his eyes…his melancholy blue eyes…they were what caused that heavy feeling of dread in her gut. So unlike his mothers.
A squeeze at her other arm distracted her.
"Is everything alright…wife?"
Maurice had noticed her faraway look and was now addressing her with affectionate concern. In an instant, her worry lines were gone, replaced by the smiles and blushes of a newly-wed.
"Wonderful, husband. Just wonderful.
They kissed, their family all around them, and walked up the aisle.