The Clockmaker's Daughter

Chapter 10

In the excitement of spending a happy Christmas with her father, Belle enthusiastically pulled out all the seasonal decor she had found in the tucked away storage rooms, lighting candles and clipping holly branches from the forest. Whenever Jean passed by, she distracted herself, busying herself more with the decorations. She wanted to see her father. She needed to see her father. She needed to remind herself who she was once again, remember her place, her station.

“That’s enough Belle,” Jean said, appearing behind her as the afternoon sun was setting in the dining room windows, “You’ve been fussing over that piece of holly every 15 minutes.”

“It’s just,” Belle said, stepping back, not looking him in the eye, “everything needs to be perfect.”

“It is,” Jean smiled, stepping in front of her. “The entire palace is perfect thanks to you. Come.”

He held out his arm to her, waiting to lead her away. Despite what she kept reminding herself, Belle’s heart began to thump within her. Without any excuse, she took his arm, her fingers so very aware of his arm. She flushed. Foolish girl! What had gotten into her?! Never was she so affected by him before. 

Jean led her away, bringing her up to her room. Lying upon her bed was a parcel. Belle approached it, glancing back curiously at Jean.

“Go ahead,” he smiled. “A thanks.”

“I’ve only ever just done my duty, your highness,” she said, “I require no payment.”

“This isn’t a payment,” Jean responded, “Rather a gift, freely given, no strings attached.”

Belle turned to the parcel, untying the brown string and opening the canvas. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. She pulled out a fine silk gown of scarlet fabric.

“I had that made for you,” Jean said, “I thought this was closer to your colour.”

“Oh my heavens!” Emilie gasped in delight, appearing in the door behind Jean. “What a beautiful dress!”

“I’ll leave it to you then Emilie,” Jean smiled, exiting, pulling the door shut behind them.

Emilie was in a festive mood, having changed into one of her Sunday outfits. She chatted away happily as she undressed Belle, helping her into the gown, doing her hair. 

“Tonight shall be the merriest Christmas in this house in the last five years!” Emilie said, “All thanks to you dear. Master is quite like his old self again, and you my dear are lovelier than ever!”

Belle stared at herself in the reflection of the golden mirror. The dress did far better suit her than the blue one, the scarlet colour matching her darker complexion and hair. Emilie had also improved the style of Belle’s hair, allowing curly tendrils to fall, framing her neck and face. In spite of her appearance, Belle’s heart ached, feeling a liar. If only she could go home to her village, where she knew who she was.

“What’s the matter dear?” Emilie asked. “Do you not like it?”

“No!” Belle said, forcing a smile, “No, it’s not that. I like it very much.”

“As you should!” Emilie smiled, “You’re as pretty as a portrait. Come, your father is already here and dinner is ready to be served.”

Jacques appeared at the door, ready to escort Belle down to the dining room. His face lit up when he saw Belle.

“You look like the mistress of this palace!” he whispered as she took his arm.

They descended the stair down to the foyer where her father and Prince Jean stood, speaking casually. Jean was wearing his fine coat again and Leon in his best Sunday suit. Leon stopped mid-sentence, his mouth dropping when he saw his daughter. Jean turned and looked up. The look in his eye when he saw her — Belle’s heart skipped a beat.