"Have you enjoyed your tour?" queried the Spirit of Christmas Past.
"It's been very informative," I responded, "but before you return us to the present, can I see my wife as young child?"
Belle blushed slightly. "I'm sure my Christmas wasn't anything too interesting."
"I bet you were adorable as a little girl!"
Our tour guide nodded politely, and we found ourselves in the home of a wealthy merchant and his wife. Three strong sons were hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree while two daughters sat embroidering by the fire.
"Anne, could you give me a hand in the kitchen?" the merchant's wife asked.
One of the girls put down her sewing. "Is my pie ready, Maman?"
"Come see for yourself!"
The other girl walked over to her brothers. "May I put the star on top?"
One of the young men lifted her onto his shoulders. "Can you reach it, Dominique?"
"I can!"
Anne hurried from the kitchen, proudly announcing to everyone that her pie was perfect. Maurice smiled warmly at his daughter and declared that after smelling it baking all day, he could hardly wait to try some.
"Neither can I!" Dominique exclaimed jubilantly.
"After supper, perhaps we can go caroling," the mother suggested.
I frowned. This was the family Belle was born into, but she described her childhood as lonely. When I met my wife, she was a nearly penniless peasant. What had happened to her siblings? Why was Maurice no longer a wealthy man?
As if sensing my thoughts, the Spirit of Christmas Past transported us to another Christmas. Maurice lived in a simple cottage in a provincial town, and rather than a large family, he had only one daughter. As Belle slept, Maurice covered a book in simplistic wrapping with a tattered ribbon, placing it under their small tree.
"What happened to them?" I wondered aloud.
"Maman died during my birth," my wife replied. "My brothers enlisted in the army. I can only assume they were killed in battle. My sisters married well, but they vanished with their husbands when I was only a young child."
"And your father's fortune?"
Belle shrugged. "Fortune is a fickle mistress. Papa lost everything shortly after his family disappeared. That's when we had to move to the village. Papa swore that one great invention was all he needed to restore our prosperity. Then, when we could afford to hire the finest intellects in France, we would be reunited with my brothers and sisters."
I pulled her into an embrace. "We can find them now! You have all of France at your disposal!"
She smiled sadly. "It's too late, I'm afraid. Papa thinks I don't know, but they were in the forest, and they fell victim to…" She shook her head, unable to finish.
"Wolves?"
"The enchantress." Belle sighed. "They've been turned to stone, all of them."
"Can nothing be done?"
"I fear not."
I thought back over all my childhood Christmases with shame. I had been ungrateful for the lavish presents others bestowed on me. Meanwhile, my subjects had been losing their families. Some even looked at a loaf of bread with more appreciation than I had ever viewed a bar of solid gold.
As if sensing the memories that stirred my mind, the Spirit of Christmas Past took us to a Christmas I still recalled clearly. It was Belle's first as a princess, even though she would not officially hold that title until the following spring. My soon-to-be wife was singing merrily through the corridors about how hope would live as long as Christmas was celebrated.
"Forte's last Christmas," I remarked. "Such a pity he never had the chance to see the end of the spell!"
The Spirit of Christmas Past nodded in acknowledgement, and Belle and I were returned to our room, wondering if we had truly seen the past or if we had simply experienced a vivid dream.