The Clockmaker's Daughter

Chapter 12

Belle headed into the village one morning to find it all abuzz with everyone out of their shops and crowded around the centre where a page, bearing the royal coat of arms, sat upon his horse. Everyone was whispering amongst themselves as the page opened his parchment, readying his announcement.

“What’s going on?” Belle asked, finding Corinne and Marie in the crowd.

“No one knows!” Marie whispered back.

“Shhh! He’s about to speak!” Corinne hissed.

The page cleared his throat loudly and the buzzing of the crowd died down.

“His Royal Highness, King of France, and his son, the Royal Prince, will be hosting a ball on the 25th of April at the summer palace for all the inhabitants in Provence,” the page declared. “All are welcome to attend where the Prince will announce the engagement to his future bride! The ball is a masquerade, those not in a mask will not be permitted entrance.”

The page folded his parchment back up and tucked it away in his coat pocket. The crowd cleared a path for him as he kicked his horse, galloping away to carry the news to another town. The village erupted in excitement as everyone began speaking about the ball!

“Can you believe it?!” Marie exclaimed. “A ball! And we’re invited! Oh how marvellous!”

“On your birthday too, Belle!” Corinne said, “What a fine present for you!”

“The rumours of his face must be true! Why else a masquerade?”

Belle was stunned, not believing her ears. What was she to make of this? His announcement of his betrothal? On her birthday? Didn’t he know it was her birthday or had he forgotten? Had he forgotten that quickly after he said he loved her? Or perhaps … 

Belle abruptly turned away, running home, dangerous thoughts, dangerous hopes rising in her mind. No, he’s announcing his engagement! She couldn’t still be in his thoughts. But why invite the entire province? Why invite their small village? Was it to torture her? To punish her for rejecting him, leaving him? She stopped along the path, in the middle of the field, breathing deeply to calm her agitated heart, the cool spring wind tousling her loose plait about her. Her heart ached at the thought of him marrying but greater than that was her desire to go. It might be her last chance to ever see him. Perhaps she could go and be assured in seeing him standing next to his beautiful fiancee that he was to be happy.

She continued walking along this path, repeating this thought over and over again, resolving to go. However, her imagination soon turned to images of Jean and this woman. He gazing at her, smiling, the way he used to look at Belle. The two of them swirling around the ballroom dancing, her standing on the side, in the room she cleaned. Belle’s heart ached a fearful pain, one greater than she had ever felt. Oh if she had never gone to that wretched place! It was as though all pure happiness was robbed from her the day she saw his face, never to return again!

Leon looked up from his breakfast at the sound of Belle returning home early to see her entirely in tears.

“My dear girl!” he rose, alarmed. “What is the matter?!”

“The prince is to give a ball,” she said, between her sobs, “Announcing his engagement to his new wife.”

“Ah,” Leon’s face relaxed, walking over, embracing Belle in his arms, soothing her, “so you did love him after all.”

“I didn’t know it at the time,” she hiccuped, “but now I’ve come to realise it too late, for I have lost him forever!”

“So that’s what happened, you queer girl,” Leon pulled away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “You turned down his offer of marriage due to your own fickle heart.”

“Marriage?” Belle’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“When I came to the palace for Christmas dinner, before you came down, Prince Jean asked me for your hand.”

“He what?” Belle blinked away her tears, eyes opened wide.

“I told him that if you would have him, I had no objections,” Leon smiled. “I was so certain that day that I was to lose you forever. Imagine my surprise the next morning when you said you were to come home with me.”

“Why did you never tell me this?” Belle asked.

“I thought he had asked!” Leon said. “And that you refused. I never pressed, thinking you must’ve had your reasons. He inquired after you every week since you left. Poor Prince, every time you never once asked about him.”

Belle fell down to the chair, dumbstruck. It was one matter to have rejected the prospect of being his mistress, but to think she had the opportunity to be his wife! Oh unhappy day! If only she could turn back time! Could she go to the ball now? Knowing that it should’ve be her announcement of marriage? Could her miserable heart bear it, knowing what she now knew!