My Name Isn't Belle

Chapitre Un: France

Within a day I was in France.

It was an entirely different world from my home in Ireland. Where I could sit in the library all day and no one would mind, but here it was almost impossible for me to even want to stay indoors.

On my first day the sun was out with only a few clouds in the sky. A local girl greeted me as I walked out of the inn and immediately began to talk. "Il fait beau!" (1)

"Oui. Vous vous-appellez?" (2) She smiled and shook her head before walking away.

"Do not worry about that Belle."

"My name isn't... She's gone." The strange woman had disappeared into the crowd before I could stop her, leaving me standing alone.

"Are you ready to go, Alana?" My Father stood in the doorway of the inn wearing on of his finest suit while I was dress fairly casual.

"What is on the agenda today, Papa?" We hooked arms as we travelled through the crowd and closer to the city.

"Well, the man that I'm currently doing business with has invited us to have mid-morning tea with his family. He has two Belleters your age and a son that's a little older. I heard that he's quite the looker."

I chuckled while rolling my eyes a scowl forming on my lips. "Yes, I'm sure you'd be quite pleased if I married the man's son, and stayed here in France while birthing babies like a rabbit."

"Alana! I never raised you to speak like that!" His face became strict and his eyes dangerous, daring me to say another inappropriate thing.

"I'm sorry, Papa. I just don't want to be like all of the other girls my age. I want to be someone of importance, yet simple and modest. I do not wish to be married off to the first man who proposes and have ten children whom I'll never see and hardly know."

He shook his head and pat my hand that was resting on his elbow. "In due time, you may change your mind. You may even laugh at yourself."

I laughed then, letting out an unladylike snort at the mere thought of myself settling down.

We finally stopped in front of a large home, a yellow one at that with pink shutters and white flowers littering about in the landscaping. "Ah, Conor!" A man exited the house with arms wide, though my Father's name sounded very foreign on his tongue.

"Louis! I must say you have a lovely home, isn't that right Alana?" I gulped as I looked at the yellow paint. The man, Louis, watched me with interest as I struggled over what to say.

"I understand completely," I looked at him shocked and unsure of what to do. "My wife decided to paint it this... colour, without my permission." couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh and nod my head in agreement.

"I can not say that I myself, am a fan of the colour. But I can say that your house itself must be quite lovely." Louis smiled before guiding us inside, where his family was waiting. His wife, Angelina, was dressed in some of the finest lace I had ever seen and his daughters, Claire and Marie, were dressed similarly in silk.

"This is my son, Everard." Said man was dressed in a green coat and dark pants, his dark hair slicked back and teeth a pearly white.