Belle made her way through the town as deftly as ever. She was reading her books even faster than usual now that her father was away and there was no one she could really talk to. While she did enjoy his necessitated a visit to town to get a new book. Though as she had readied herself this morning the thought of going into town caused her pause. After all, Gaston had been by only last night to offer her a ludicrous marriage proposal, which she promptly and perhaps not so discreetly refused. She snickered to herself at the thought of him fuming in that mud puddle. But honestly, 6 or 7 strapping boys? With Gaston? His little wife?! As if that kind of future would make all her dreams come true. Ah, if only it were so simple. In truth, Belle didn't know exactly what kind of life would make her happy but she knew, as she ducked into an alleyway to avoid being seen by Gaston who was stomping through the market square looking distinctly grumpy, it didn't include him.
She noticed that the marketplace seemed to be more hectic than usual. Indeed, as she looked around, it appeared everyone in town was out of their cottages and at the market today. Looking more closely, she also noticed that the townspeople were wearing their finest clothing, starched jackets and voluminous skirts typically reserved for dances or church on Sunday. Belle began to suspect there was something happening in town that day, and as usual she was out of the loop. She sighed and continued to try to make her way through the thick of townspeople. Whatever it was, she doubted that she would find it very interesting. The townspeople were always fainting over themselves at the slightest deviation from their routine. Though she did feel distinctly sloppy among the townspeople's hats and boquets of flowers, and began to wonder if she should at least remove her apron. She absentmindedly attempted to brush the flour from the morning's bread off the fabric of her blue dress.
Suddenly the autumn air filled with the sound of horns and Belle looked through the crowd to see men dressed in uniform marching down the main street before turning smartly on their heels and coming to an abrupt halt. An ornate carriage flanked by royal guards rolled between the lines of men and came to a stop. A breeze fluttered, shaking loose some leaves from the overhanging trees and toying with the sashes of the guards.
A portly man made his way to the front of the lines of men and looked over the waiting townspeople, who looked back at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and the crowd leaned in to hear him.
"Presenting his eminence, his grace, his royal highness Prince Adam Auguste de Bourbon," the man announced in French colored with hues of a British accent. Belle squinted toward the carriage. What on Earth was the son of the king doing in a tiny backwater like her town? She had to admit, as footmen hurried to open the carriage door, she was curious to see what a royal prince looked like. She leaned forward, attempting to find a window in the crowd through which she could see better.
At first only a boot of the finest leather was visible, then the prince exited the carriage and turned toward the townspeople. Belle blinked. He was handsome, almost breathtakingly so. He was quite tall and broad through the shoulders, muscular with a confident bearing. His nose was Roman, his lips full, his jawline chiseled, and his blonde hair caught the sun so that he seemed radiant even without all the pomp surrounding him. Already the Bimbettes had lost consciousness, entirely overcome by the presence of a handsome prince in their midst. Belle suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and wondered why these faint women had not taken to loosening the laces of their stays.
He surveyed the crowd with an arrogant expression that appeared supremely disinterested in the sea of people standing reverent before him. As his eyes lazily swept over the crowd they met Belle's and stopped, holding her gaze with an unreadable expression. Belle saw that his eyes were his most striking feature, brilliant blue and filled with an intensity that betrayed the conceited indifference in his countenance. Belle felt a flush rising to her cheeks that she wished bitterly she could suppress. She hardly wanted to swoon over this prince, who no doubt was well accustomed to women fainting in his wake.
"Kneel, girl!" one of the townspeople next to her hissed, and she looked around to see that the entire town was in a full genuflect except her. Gracefully she sank into a curtsy, lowering her face to look at the ground. She detested displays such as this, that millions should grovel at the feet of another, of one who was born into wealth and power but had done nothing to earn respect. In defiance she remained in her curtsy but looked up and to her surprise found the prince was still watching her. He raised an eyebrow at her and cocked his head slightly to the side.
She was beautiful, so beautiful in fact that he was taken aback by it. He was not expecting to find such beauty among the tattered peasantry of some one horse town his father had forced him to visit. Her skin was as fine as porcelain, her doe-shaped eyes were a striking hazel, and her lips were shapely and as pink as rose petals. Yet he could see in her expression a spiritedness that bordered on rebellion. He thought for a moment that he should pull her from the crowd and make an example of her, at least threaten her with a flogging. After all, first she had failed to kneel and now she was looking at him so brazenly. But something unnamable stopped him, and instead he looked away from her and paced in front of the crowd, his arms tucked behind his back.
"Greetings," the prince said, "I am pleased to visit your … lovely town."
The townspeople remained kneeling, faces turned piously towards the ground. The portly man who had introduced the prince cleared his throat again and glanced meaningfully toward the crowd.
"Oh," the prince said nonchalantly, "You may rise."
Wordlessly the crowd straightened, but their eyes remained reverently pointed towards the ground. Belle, however, continued to watch the prince.
"The king has sent me as an envoy to survey your town," the prince continued in an emotionless voice that made Belle suspect that his speech was well-rehearsed, "Once I have a better understanding of your needs, the crown would like to fund an improvement project. Let this stand as proof that the House of Bourbon holds the welfare of its subjects in the highest regard."
The crowd murmured its surprise and gratitude. The prince continued pacing in front of his subjects, and as he approached them, the people in the crowd sank into the deepest bow or curtsy, muttering "your highness," and "your majesty," as he passed.
"If I may," a deep voice spoke from the crowd, "Volunteer to give you a tour of our fine town. You see, no one knows this town as I do."
"Step forward," the prince commanded. Gaston strode out of the crowd and stood in front of the prince. The men were roughly the same height and build, and walked with the same swagger in their step. The prince sized Gaston up with a calculating expression.
"I did not ask for a volunteer," the prince informed him curtly.
"Your majesty," Gaston demurred, "You will not find a more capable guide to this town. If you are to gain an understanding of this town, do you not want your information to come from the highest authority?"
"And you are the highest authority?" the prince asked, with a sneer, "Sir, the highest authority is God, followed by the King, my brothers and myself. You do not rank even close to the highest authority, or as any authority for that matter."
Gaston continued to stand in front of the prince, looking uncertain as to how to save face in front of the prince or the crowd. The prince waved a hand at him disinterestedly and continued to pace in front of the crowd but Gaston remained grounded to the spot where he stood as though his feet had sprouted roots.
"You have been dismissed, sir," the portly servant informed him. Gaston glared at him and stomped back into the crowd, glowering at the ground.
The prince continued to inspect the citizens of the town. Good heavens, couldn't they be bothered to fix themselves up when they knew a prince was coming to town? Dreary dresses, fuzzy looking wigs, jackets that had to be patched, the entire seen was exhausting him. And the town…hideous. A muddy boring pit. How was he supposed to fund a public works project for the improvement of this town when the country would be much improved if this entire country would be much improved if this entire sinkhole was razed to the ground? Of course his father would send him on this fool's errand knowing the entire situation was hopeless. The prince cursed him inwardly as the townspeople continued to watch him expectantly.
Now that he thought of it, he supposed that having a guide to the town may be helpful. After all, he knew nothing of these people, their lives, or their needs and lacked the compassion or creativity to even imagine what could be done to help them. Nor was he particularly interested in helping them. But he had his orders from his father. The prince considered the matter. No way would he follow in the clomping footsteps of that presumptuous dolt who had offered to be his guide. His eyes settled on the woman in the blue dress in the crowd. Well, if he was to be trapped in this pathetic excuse for a town surrounded by poverty and filth, he might as well have something pleasant to look at.
"You," the prince said to the girl, "Step forward."
Belle glanced around herself, wondering who the prince was addressing. The townspeople on either side of her nudged her and looked at her like she was crazy.
"Yes, you," the prince reiterated with irritation, "Step forward."
Belle made her way through the crowd as gracefully as she typically moved past any obstacle in her path and stood before the prince. She curtsied but did not hold it, rising to meet the prince's gaze. She was even more beautiful close up, the prince realized. The prince, not at all accustomed to being surprised at someone's beauty, needed to quickly compose his expression into one of disinterest as she looked up at him with her lovely eyes.
"You will be my guide to this town," the prince declared, "You will tell me everything I need to know."
"Your majesty," Belle protested, "I feel certain that there are many others who would serve as far more knowledgeable guides than I, might you—"
"I have made my decision," the prince interrupted, "And I have bestowed upon you a great honor. You would do well to display more gratitude."
"Very well," Belle responded, with the slightest hint of irritation in the undertones of her melodic voice, "Thank you, your grace. I will do my very best to be a worthy guide for our fair town."
"Very well," the prince said, gesturing an arm outward toward the town, "The tour begins now. Show me everything."
Belle nodded and began leading the prince and his retinue down the main street, toward the stands of the marketplace. The townspeople looked at each other in disbelief but dared not to voice their disapproval with the prince still in such close proximity. But honestly, of all the people to act as an ambassador from their town to a royal prince! The strangest girl in town who lived with her lunatic father on the outskirts of the village and had just rejected a marriage proposal from the only man who could make a proper woman of her? This was who would communicate their history, culture, and needs to the crown? It was almost too much, and the townspeople feared what crackpot project Belle would recommend for the town.
At the edge of the crowd, arms folded, biceps bulging, Gaston watched Belle lead the prince through the stands of the marketplace. He was not a man used to rejection, and here he had been soundly humiliated in front of the whole town not once but twice! First by Belle who had rebuffed his proposal and now by a royal prince who had refused his help! He glared after them. He decided then and there that he would have his revenge sooner or later, make no mistake about that.