The Clockmaker's Daughter

Chapter 11

“Good morning Belle!” the baker smiled, preparing his paper. “What can I get for you today?”

“Just two baguettes, Maurice, thanks,” Belle said, collecting the baguettes in her basket.

Belle stepped out into the spring morning air, the sun warming her bones. She passed through the centre of the village and Marie and Corinne waiting there as usual, gossiping.

“What news?” Belle asked, approaching them.

“You’ll never believe it Belle!” Marie exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement.

“The Prince — the one long believed to be dead — has emerged!” Corrine said. “Papa heard it himself, the old abandoned summer palace has been revived and hired servants from town!”

“Indeed!” Belle feigned surprise.

“They saw he’s been horribly disfigured from the fire,” Marie continued, “Like a monster!”

“That’s a horrible thing to say!” Belle snapped, “I’m sure the reports are grossly exaggerated.” 

“It’s true!” Corinne said, surprised at Belle’s reaction, “I heard that he had to start wearing a mask because no one would come at first, being so frightened of his appearance.”

“It’s nothing but gossip,” Belle responded shortly, storming away from them in a huff.

Marie and Corinne exchanged glances as Belle headed home.

“What on earth has gotten into her?” Corinne asked.

“Lord knows,” Marie responded. “She’s never been quite the same since she came home from working at that lord’s residence several towns away.”

“I bet she was fired,” Corinne said, “No one just comes home from a fine setup like that.”

“She never talks about her time there,” Marie remarked, her eyes growing wide as a theory sprouted in her mind, “Perhaps she had a forbidden tryst! Suppose it was the lord’s son!”

“Or the lord himself!” Corinne added, “And the wife threw her out! It would explain her sullen mood.”

“Oh dear Belle,” Marie said pitifully, “She must’ve been taken advantage of, with that romantic heart of hers.”

Belle laid her basket on the table, unpacking the groceries. Despite her crossness, Belle smiled, happy to hear that Jean was entering society again. She looked up and saw the edge of a light pink petal flowing back and forth in front of the window. Smiling excitedly, Belle rushed outside to the garden to see the first buds emerging from the healthy young bushes in their pots. As she inspected for rot, Leon approached in the cart, driving up to the house.

“Back from the palace?” she asked casually, taking her father’s tools from the cart.

“Yes?” Leon looked at her curiously, “As I do every week.”

“How is he?” she asked, not looking at him as they walked in.

“Fine,” Leon said.

Belle looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled.

“Don’t tease me Papa,” she said, preparing bread for their lunch.

“It’s just you’ve never asked me about him once these past several months,” he chuckled, taking his seat. “Why now all of a sudden?”

“News has spread that he’s made an appearance, taking in servants,” she said.

“Ah, that’s true,” he said. “Hired them last week. Whole place set abuzz. Said his father will be visiting next week.”

“The king?!”

“Yes! Seems like he’s on the mend, healthy enough to travel at least. Hoping the sea air will do him good for a full recovery. The entire palace is being turned upside down preparing for his arrival.”

“I can only imagine,” Belle smiled, chuckling to herself, “Lord, how I’d hate to be working there now!” 

“Amazing really, like a proper palace now. Kinda missed it when it was empty. Felt more intimate, like … you knew it better. Now it’s just like any other royal palace, far too extravagant for you to ever feel comfortable in. Prince Jean still is just the same though.”

“Is it true he’s wearing a mask now?” she asked.

“Yes that’s true,” he said. “Too many of those silly girls yelping in fright over it. Started wearing it so he could walk through his own house without causing a ruckus everywhere he went.”

“Silly indeed!” Belle said in a huff, “To be frightened over so little a matter!”

Leon paused, looking up at Belle. She pretended not to notice his gaze, filling the kettle with water, putting it over the fire.

“There’s talk,” he said slowly, carefully, monitoring Belle’s reaction. “I should say, Emilie and Jacques have informed me … that the King is not just coming for his health.”

“Oh?”

“That the topic of another wife is another reason.”

Belle yanked her hand away, having grabbed the hot iron kettle without a towel. She quickly grabbed the towel and poured the water for coffee.

“I don’t see why not,” Belle said, not looking up. “The kingdom needs an heir and Jean … he’s ready to marry again.”

“With his face though?” Leon asked.

“Any lady should be happy to marry the Prince of France!” Belle laughed, “What woman would let a few burn scars keep her from becoming princess, and one day queen?!”

“True,” Leon said, taking his coffee and bread in hand, intending to return to his work table upstairs, “Shame to think that that’s all the ladies will see him as — the royal crown. Prince Jean has such a kind heart, he deserves a good wife.”

Belle stared into her cup of coffee, her bread untouched. Of course he should marry! And he was going to marry a fine lady at that. A lady that would bring order to the palace, tend the roses and herbs with love, spend nights with him reading by the fire in the library. It would be her portraits that hung in the corridors, Annette’s taken down. And Belle? She would fade as a silly flirtation in Jean’s memory once he began his new life. Drops splashed into her cup of coffee, tears trickling down her face.

“Oh please,” she prayed, sniffling quietly, “Please let him find a good wife, one that will see the kindness in his heart and love him. Please let him find happiness!”