Belle stood in front of the very large mirror while Madame du Garderobe and Mademoiselle Plumette fussed over her wedding gown. It was a very large, very formal gown, made of many, many layers. Belle despised it with every inch of her being. On top of the frilly, lacy, ridiculous gown, with its many hoops and layers, was a very heavy silk brocade coat – a very beautiful feminine version of the coats Adam wore, in a color similar to his eyes. She could have loved it, had it not been so heavy, so ridiculously embroidered, so very warm, and so awkward.
"I can hardly move, Marie," she complained.
"Oh, but you look so very lovely," Mme du Garderobe soothed. You are like a blossom.
"I'm like a cake!" Belle exclaimed, and Plumette let loose with a girlish giggle. "Adam will hate it!"
"No, no!" Plumette, disagreed. "He will love it! For you are the most beautiful princess in all of France! Indeed, in all of the world!" Belle raised an eyebrow.
"You've squished, pushed, laced, and buttoned me into this ridiculous pretentiousness. How in the world am I to get out of it with only a husband to aid me?" Both women looked at each other with mischievous smiles.
"That," said Mme du Garderobe. "Is half the fun! By the time he gets you out of this gown he will be so desperate for you and you for him, all your fears will have vanished. But not to worry, ma petite, we have a dancing gown for you." Belle lifted her chin inquiringly.
"Fears?" The realization that tonight she would finally lose her maidenhead suddenly settled on her like a weight. "Oh." Belle looked down at her hands, twisting them in front of her. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that. I know there is a great deal of pleasure to be had. But the rest of it," she paused. "Does it hurt very much?"
Madame du Garderobe sat on a stool near Belle, urging her to sit as well. It was an awkward motion, with all the hoops and skirts, but Belle eventually managed it.
"My first husband, he was not a good man. He was not a kind man. He was chosen for me and I did not love him. I fear sometimes that it was terribly cruel of me, but I did not mourn him when he died. It was not until my dear Cadenza that I found that pleasure could be found in the arms of a man. But Sophie," Mme du Garderobe looked at Plumette. "You have only had Lumiere, I think, oui?"
Belle looked up at Plumette is surprise.
"Sophie?" she questioned.
"It is my name," said Plumette, taking Belle's hand. "And you must use it, I think, as you call Madame by Marie. And oui, Lumiere has been my only lover." Plumette had a dreamy smile on her face as she spoke. "I think it must depend as much on the readiness of the woman as the gentleness of the man. He made sure I was very, very ready, and he was so very, very tender. It hardly pinched for a moment and then not at all. We drank a little together that night. A very strong port wine. I felt very warm inside, and by the time we were finished, I could remember only the pleasure and nothing of the pain." Plumette gave Belle's hand a little squeeze and they stood together.
Belle sighed heavily. This evening would be nothing, if she could only get through the day.
It was some time later that Belle knelt with Adam in front of the Bishop. Adam had written to the dauphin about their engagement and marriage, as was expected of him. The news had reached the bishop, who had suddenly remembered the young prince and felt a great and urgent need to attend the wedding himself.
The Bishop was a very old and disapproving man and Belle found she did not like him at all. He had arrived three evenings ago and had made disapproving noises and faces upon meeting her in the library. He was clearly of a mind that a woman's place was not among the learned. Belle would have been much happier being married by Père Robert in the village, but there was nothing to be done for it now. She glanced up at the good Monseigneur, who now stood relegated to the side. The bishop droned on in Latin, intoning – or rather warbling – the mass in Latin. Père Robert smiled apologetically at her and Belle lowered her gaze before she could smile back, knowing that a smile would quickly turn into a giggle and that the Bishop would most certainly NOT approve.
She made the mistake, then, of peeking at Adam. Lumiere had combed and groomed the prince's facial hair into something she supposed was supposed to be fashionable. She couldn't help it then, a quiet giggle escaped, and she tried desperately to cover it with a soft cough.
Adam peeked at her. His poor beard, she thought, which only made her giggles worse. It looked like a pair of scissors had been glued to his face, with the bottom of his beard now pointed to an absurd peak and his moustache curled out on either side above his upper lip. Adam raised an eyebrow, and Belle pursed her lips tightly, squeezing her eyes against the ridiculous thoughts.
"Ego conjúngo vos in matrimónium. In nómine Patris, et Fílii, et Spíritus Sancti. Amen." the Bishop droned, as he sprinkled them with holy water.
It continued on for a time and then the bishop at last began to conclude, "Réspice, quæsumus, Dómine, super hos fámulos tuos: et institútis tuis, quibus propagatiónem humáni géneris ordinásti, benígnus assíste; ut qui te auctóre jungúntur, te auxiliánte servéntur. Per Christum Dóminum nostrum. Amen." Belle felt a great weight lift off her.
Adam leaned over and very quietly whispered in her ear, "How soon can we make our escape so I can rid you of that ridiculous gown?" Belle's responding giggle was not at all quiet this time, and there was no missing the glare of disapproval from the elderly bishop who presided over them.
"As soon as you like," she answered softly. "So long as I can please comb that ludicrous pair of scissors off your face. What in heavens name did Lumiere do to you?"
"Only made me the most fashionable prince to wear facial hair," Adam pretended to preen as they made their way from the small cathedral. Belle snorted in amused disagreement.
"You look as outrageous as I feel," she laughed. He helped her into their carriage.
"Well," he answered. "I think you look lovely."
"Lovely," Belle raised one delicate eyebrow at her prince. "Indeed. And you are stuck on that side of the carriage because I've got entirely too many skirts for you to sit anywhere near me. It is little wonder fancy ladies of the court swoon so often and so delicately. I feel positively overheated in this silly gown. The corset I can bear, but the jacket is entirely too much. I feel extremely certain the entire purpose of a wedding gown is to make sure a bride makes it to the wedding bed unsullied."
"Can I not at least attempt a little sullying?" Adam smirked, reaching for Belle.
"You can try," Belle allowed. "I doubt you will succeed before we get to the castle. And once we do, I believe there is to be much drinking and dancing? At least Sophie and Marie have a dress more suited to dancing for me to change into." Adam smiled.
"Mmm," he breathed softly. "I do so like the dancing gowns those two put you in. They are so soft and lovely."
They were at the castle before any sullying could be done, and Belle was whisked away to be changed for the wedding ball. It was to be a suitably grand affair, as was expected. But unlike the lavish affairs of the prince's former life, the invitation had been extended to all of the village. This made it very unusual and a pleasant coming together of old and new, of courtly and common. Belle found that she rather enjoyed it.
Less wasteful than previous affairs, the dinner that could have fed a village did indeed feed a village, and Belle was glad for the display of generosity, rather than of pompous wealth. It was a thing not understood by many of Adam's peers, and she feared he would ultimately be judged poorly for it, but he was loved among Villeneuve in a way that few princes were, and that was what mattered. A prince, she felt very strongly, should be loved by those to whom he held a responsibility for. If he was to hold power, he should also take the responsibility that came with such and it warmed her to see him do so, when so many other noblemen did not.
It was with this affection that she found herself in Adam's arms that night, and Plumette's words returned to her. I think it must depend as much on the readiness of the woman as the gentleness of the man.
Belle found she was so very ready now, and her prince was so very, very gentle.