It had not been difficult to convince Maurice that a visit to town was necessary and that his presence would help convince the villagers of the prince's good intentions. Belle, on the other hand, was substantially harder to persuade.
"You want us all to ride into town and try to court their good favor?!" she had exclaimed, crossing her arms, anger hardening the softness of her features, "After what they did?! They tried to lock my father into the asylum! They almost killed you! I don't want to have anything to do with them!"
Only after Belle understood that the safety of everyone in the castle depended on winning the good-will of the villagers had she agreed to any of them going to town.
Cogsworth had insisted that the prince ride to town on a horse and wear a sword on his belt in order to look more heroic. He was dressed in white trousers and a blue military coat. Belle and Maurice rode a little behind him in a carriage, with Cogsworth steering the horses. The prince bounced around uncomfortably in his saddle wondering exactly how far town was from the castle while attempting, in vain, to keep his anxiety in check.
The prince supposed, as he straightened his back after hearing Cogsworth call out to him 'Posture master!', that he ought to learn how to use the sword that was now dangling awkwardly at his side. As a child and then as a beast he had not had much use for weaponry. But of course things were different now.
In the carriage Maurice and Belle sat next to each other, Maurice looking out the window and Belle fussing with her gown with a worried expression on her face. Maurice was looking quite dapper in black trousers, a burgundy vest, and a mustard colored jacket. Belle wore a deep midnight blue dress with light blue trim. The skirt was fuller then she was used to and, with her hair piled up on top of her head and decorated with red and blue roses, along with the gloves and a parasol that Madame de la Grande Bouche had insisted upon to accessorize her attire, she felt ostentatious.
She worried for Adam. As they had prepared to leave the castle he had struggled to pull himself up onto his horse, his foot had slipped out of the stirrup resulting in him falling the first time he tried it. When Cogsworth had presented him with a sword he held it like a little boy, looking as though he might accidentally knock something over with it. She shook her head to herself. In moments such as those she saw it more clearly than ever that he was still her sweet beast who hadn't known how to feed birds or use a spoon. Still, she felt for him. He was shouldering the burden of many expectations.
"Do you think it will go well?" Belle asked her father, who turned his face away from the window to look at his daughter.
"I think so," Maurice said, smiling and squeezing Belle's hand, "How could it not? You're both so good-looking and charming . . .you're quite a pair you know."
"And you—you're sure you like that we're a pair?" Belle asked.
"Of course." Maurice responded, "I hold no grudges against him. All I need to know is that you love each other and he makes you happy. As a father that's all I can ask for."
"Oh papa!" Belle said, hugging Maurice. His gentle, open heart is what she loved about him and what made him a wonderful father to her. The carriage stopped.
Belle looked out the window and saw the familiar cobblestone streets, the shops with their doors flung open to let in the breeze from the late spring day, the hagglers at market arguing about the price of bacon. She turned back to father, the worried expression returning to her face.
"We're here." She said.
The arrival of a handsome prince on a white steed followed by an ornate carriage did not go unnoticed by the townspeople, who stopped their bargaining, gossiping, and prattling to stare.
Cogsworth climbed down from the driver's seat and cleared his throat.
"Announcing his royal highness Prince Adam Auguste de Bourbon!" Cogsworth proclaimed in his best regal voice. The townspeople stood motionless, looking a little stunned but not quite impressed.
Adam had not been addressed by his full title in many, many years and after being only referred to as 'master' or 'beast' for so long, he couldn't help but find it a bit ridiculous sounding. He wished his royal highness wasn't quite so high off the ground, and wondered how he was going to dismount from his horse with any amount of grace. Fully aware of the many eyes fixed upon him, he climbed down from his horse, wobbling only slightly, then standing straight-backed and quite princely in front of the villagers.
"Citizens," he began, then remembering what Cogsworth had told him about projecting his voice, he said more loudly, "I have come to bring you news of the beast's demise."
Gasps and murmurs of surprise rustled throughout the crowd. The prince heard people muttering 'the beast', 'the monster', 'the terrifying creature' along with exclamations of fear and surprise. He glanced down at his hands, as though to remind himself he was no longer any of these things.
"What happened?" one man called out
"Is it dead?" a woman cried.
"That hideous beast?! Has it been slain?!" yet another man yelled.
"There is nothing to fear any longer," the prince said, "The beast has been destroyed."
There were more gasps and the dull din of many people talking at once. Finally, the baker made his voice heard above all others.
"Who killed it?" he asked. The townspeople turned their faces back to the prince as several others echoed the baker's question.
"How was it killed?" a woman called out, with panic in her voice, "How can you be sure it's dead?"
"I—uh—well, he—it was. . . " the prince sputtered, struggling to reconcile the fact that he was not the hideous beast who was the target of the townspeople's terror and rage but a prince, riding into town on a white steed with stories of victory.
"The prince stabbed him in the side and killed him," a clear voice rang out into the sweet air of the spring day. Belle stepped out of the carriage with Maurice following behind her. Her blue skirts billowed around her like a cloud, her lips bloomed as rosy on her face as the red flowers in her hair. She was as beautiful as ever, and certainly more regal. It took a few seconds for the townspeople to recognize her, and when they did the town began to hum with astonishment.
"I foolishly called out to the beast from a balcony," Belle continued, looking sideways at the prince before directing a determined gaze at the crowd, "I still believed he was kind and gentle and that I could stop him from killing Gaston. I was wrong. He threw Gaston from a gable and climbed up the roof of the castle towards me. The prince arrived just in time. He was able to climb up to the beast and kill him just as the beast reached where I was on the balcony. The beast was surprised by the attack and let go of the railing of the balcony, and he fell. If the prince hadn't arrived when he did, my father and I would probably be dead."
"What were you doing there?" one of the townspeople shouted at the prince.
The prince looked at Belle, who tried to give him an encouraging look.
"The castle was built for my mother who died when I was a boy. Now that I am of age, I was on my way to the castle to reclaim it as my own. I heard signs of struggle and intervened." The prince responded.
"In the middle of the night?" the fishmonger yelled.
"Yes," the prince replied, "My horse . . .had lost his way in the wood, delaying my arrival."
"How incredibly fortunate," another voice stated. "It seems you arrived only just in time." Leaning against a post that held up one of the stands in the market was Monsieur D'Arque, looking at the prince with both smugness and suspicion.
"Yes," Belle responded, walking up to the prince and sliding her arm through his elbow, "It was. Princes tend to have remarkably good timing, always turning up when a damsel in distress needs them most."
The prince wasn't quite sure what to be most astonished at. Belle's willingness to lie, her adeptness at lying, or the fact that he was fairly certain she had just referred to herself as a damsel in distress.
Out of the corner of her eye, Belle noticed the Bimbettes sighing and eyeing her prince with an adoring expression she had seen them previously reserve for Gaston. She scanned the crowed for Lefou, but didn't see him present.
"Who are you to speak for a prince?" Monsieur D'Arque asked Belle, his eyes narrowing.
"Belle is my intended bride," the prince announced to the town, "I wish to marry her and have her live with me in the castle as my princess."
"She's not a princess!" the baker exclaimed, "She's a peasant!"
"You can't marry her!" a woman in the crowd cried out.
"Why would you marry her?" someone else asked.
"Belle has won my heart with her beauty, courage, and kindness," the prince proclaimed, attempting to use his best prince voice, "Of noble blood or not, I can marry no other."
The crowd seemed more astonished by this than by the revelation that Gaston and the beast had both been killed. The inventor's daughter? Certainly she was beautiful, but she was so . . .odd. Why on earth would a handsome prince want to make her his wife? She'd make a fool out of both of them at court. What did it say for the nobility that such a strange girl would give birth to royal children? Is this why she had rejected Gaston's proposals? Was she holding out for the wealthiest groom she could find? First she had lived with that beast, and now this. It seemed the inventor's daughter was much more interested in gold than in the suitability of her prospective husbands.
"Where's the beast's body?" a man shouted.
"We want its head!" someone else shouted, to a chorus of agreements from the crowd.
"We have searched the grounds, but we have been unable to find the beast's remains," the prince stated, "We suspect the wolves got to the remains of both the beast and Gaston."
The crowd broke out into a large uproar, shouting passionately both to each other and to the prince. Many of the men looked at the prince with anger, while the women seemed panicked and grief-stricken over Gaston's demise. The prince felt substantially out of his depth, and was at a loss for how to subdue the crowd. Belle sighed. She had been afraid that this would be the reaction to her and Adam. Since when had she ever understood how to talk to the townspeople?
"Uhhh . . .to honor your town's bravery in fighting the beast I would like to sponsor a celebration at the castle. Then you can see for yourself that the castle is free from the beast, the enchanted objects, or any other threat. I'll provide plenty of food and music." The prince said, wondering what else he could say to win their favor.
"And ale," Cogsworth muttered under his breath.
"Huh? Oh," the prince mumbled, then added in a louder voice, "And ale of course."
The mood of the crowd appeared to soften from anger to mild suspicion, and the din of the voices quieted to a murmur. The women weren't sure of this prince and couldn't understand why he would choose such a strange girl as Belle for his bride, but the prospect of getting dressed up and going to a castle was very appealing. For the men, they weren't entirely confident they wouldn't be walking into a trap, but then neither were they ones to turn down free food and beer.
The villagers continued to eye the prince and Belle with confusion and distrust. This was a small sleepy town not accustomed to all of the excitement it had experienced in the last few weeks. The discovery of a monster living in a nearby castle, the death of their town hero, the arrival of a wealthy young prince. . . .it was almost too much for them to sort out, let alone understand.
"I'll begin the preparations and set the festivities for a fortnight from Friday," the prince said, feeling as though he had to speak to break the odd emotional checkmate between himself and the crowd. The crowd began to murmur in a way that seemed, if not accepting, than at least not angry.
"Thank you for receiving us into your lovely town," the prince said, wanting this business to be over as quickly as possible, and walking with Belle towards the carriage, "I'll send coaches to transport you to the festivities. In the meantime, please accept my sincerest apologies for all the trouble the beast caused you."
Maurice climbed back into the carriage and the prince helped Belle into it. Shutting the door behind her, he turned back to the crowd who was still staring at him with a mixture of expressions, none of which contained admiration, save perhaps for the Bimbettes. He cleared his throat adjusted his jacket, and looked around the marketplace.
"Well this'll be interesting," Belle whispered to Maurice from inside the carriage, "I'll bet he's never had a sip of ale in his life."
"It'll get them on his side though," Maurice commented, "The tavern is the most popular spot in town. A prince that throws celebrations with plenty of free ale? He'll be the most popular prince in France."
"Good day! I'm afraid I must be off!" the prince called out. Belle felt the carriage begin to roll away. She looked out the window on her poor provincial town as the carriage drew away. She still saw Monsieur D'Arque watching her prince, eyes narrowed, suspicious. She sighed and sat back against her seat.
"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Maurice asked. Belle smiled and patted his hand, trying to quiet the knot of worry in her stomach.
As the prince walked back to his steed silently cursing Cogsworth for choosing the largest horse in the stable and as he contemplated how exactly he was going to vault himself back onto it, one of the townspeople stopped him.
"Your majesty?" he asked.
"Yes?" the prince responded.
"I know she," the townsman said, glancing pointedly at the carriage that was driving away with Belle, "Is very beautiful, but surely a good looking fella like yourself has plenty of options, especially what with being a prince and all. She's . . .well. . .she's—odd. She turned down Gaston's marriage proposal and then ran off to live with that beast in his, well, I guess, your castle. We think she even developed . . .feelings for it."
The prince stared at the man, his head tilted slightly to the side, feeling a conflux of numerous emotions. Part of him was astonished that anyone would have anything bad to say about Belle, his angel, a woman so pure of heart that she managed to love him even in his beastly form. Another part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdness of the entire situation. The final part, and though he hated to admit it, the largest part, wanted to lift this man off the ground and throw him into the nearby stands of the market for talking ill of his future wife.
"I have never," the prince began, straightening the sleeves of his jacket, his jaw setting, "Loved anyone the way that I love the woman to whom you refer. She will be my wife and she will be your princess. And we will treat her with her with the respect and dignity she deserves. Won't we?"
Though the prince was no longer a beast, he had been a beast for long enough that even though he spoke with restraint in a soft human voice there was an ominous hint of something much more threatening beneath his words.
"Of course, your majesty," the man responded, bowing his head.
"Very well then," the prince responded, he added in a louder voice, "Good day to you all."
He pulled himself up onto his horse and smiled at the fact that he did not topple off. Noticing the villagers were all still watching him, he waved before flicking the reins and following the carriage down the road.
They were not returning directly back to the castle. Maurice had asked if they could stop by his old cottage so that he could check on the animals and see which of his inventions he wanted transported back to the castle. The prince had agreed easily, he was curious and excited to see Belle's home before she came to stay at the castle, though Belle seemed less than eager to show him.
The townsman's words about Belle echoed in his mind as he followed the carriage to Belle's home. It had never occurred to him that anyone would hold anything less than the highest opinion of Belle. Belle and the prince had talked enough with each other that he knew she had been frustrated with her life before coming to the castle, but he thought that most of her discontent stemmed from Gaston's pursuit of her and her father's struggles to have his skills at inventing recognized. He began to suspect that she wasn't appreciated in this place, a thought that saddened him. Working to maintain his balance in his saddle as his horse reached a brisk cantor, he wondered how unhappy Belle had been before she had come to the castle.