“Of course,” he said, then quickly added, “Do you like to read out loud?”
“I suppose so,” she answered. She had never given it much thought.
“Very good. Pick one you think sounds good... only it must be one you’ve never read before...and come and read to me.”
The idea of reading to Mr. Prince terrified Belle, but she didn’t want to tell him no. Not after he had let her enter his wonderful library. She nodded, selected a book, and followed him to a small sitting area where he took a large chair, and she settled on a cushioned footstool near his feet. Spreading the book out on her lap, she began to read. She soon discovered it was a pastime she could easily grow to love.
Chip waited for Belle when she left the library and demanded to know everything that had happened while she was there. She told him all of it and smiled when his eyes grew wider and wider. She saved the best part for last.
“He wants me to go for a walk with him tomorrow,” she concluded, “and he said you can come.”
“He wants me to come?” Chip’s jaw dropped open. “Why does he want me to come?”
“I don’t know, maybe he’s worried we will meet with a dragon.”
“I suppose I’ll need a sword then.”
“I’ll help you find one,” Belle offered. Together they hurried out into the garden to find the perfect sword—shaped stick, which Chip put to good use the next day.
Belle wasn’t sure what Mr. Prince would say about Chip and how he hunted for dragons and called her his fair maid. It surprised her when he said nothing. She even thought she saw him smile once or twice, though she could never be sure.
After that, things fell into a routine of sorts, though Belle didn’t notice it until a few days later. Every morning after breakfast she would meet Mr. Prince in the library, and they would take turns picking books which she would read out loud from. Mr. Prince liked historical books and introduced Belle to works by Sir Walter Scott. They passed two days of her reading Redgauntlet.
“It isn’t as well-known as Ivanhoe,” Mr. Prince said when he handed it to Belle, “but in some ways, I like this one more, even if I hold an unpopular view on this stance. I once nearly got myself into a sword duel when I mentioned this to a fellow university student.”
Often Mr. Prince let Belle pick the books, with the same rule she had to pick new fairy tales. He said they would show her new worlds she had never explored before, which she soon discovered the truth behind when she read A Thousand and One Tales.
They would eat a meal in the library, then they would meet Chip outside and go for long walks around the property. Belle slowly discovered just how large it was—she didn’t think she would ever see all of it, even if she walked for the rest of her life. In the evenings, Mr. Prince liked her to sit beside him while they both read from separate books. Chip even moved his seat so he and Belle could continue to sit side-by-side.
All of this happened slowly, but one day Belle woke up and was surprised to discover she not only enjoyed Mr. Prince’s company—even if he said little and never smiled—she was also beginning to look forward to spending each new day with him.
A week passed. It passed swiftly, which hadn’t happened to Adam Prince in years. Nineteen to be exact. He hadn’t thought that the day he’d allowed a bright-eyed girl into his library would end the way it had. He’d been ready to slam the door in her face and give up all attempts at kindness. There was something different about Belle, though, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit—even to himself—what he saw in her.
His wife, at least, would have been pleased with the effort he made to spend time with Belle, and even Chip. She’d have been displeased if she knew how distant he had been, how he sat in his chair every night and frowned at everyone. She’d have made him get out and do things with both Chip and Belle.
“You’re good with children,” she used to tell him, “you’re going to be one of those fun grandfathers who take their grandchildren ice skating, and I will be the lovable grandmother who makes cookies and puts too much chocolate in the hot chocolate.”
Now neither of them would ever have that dream fulfilled. But Mr. Prince didn’t think about that. If he did, then the next time he saw Belle he would slam the door in her face, and he wasn’t sure he could do that to her. Not after she took the time to give him a second chance.
“Ice skating,” he said to himself. He thrust his feet closer to the fire and frowned. It was cold outside, but he supposed he could do it, so long as Mrs. Potts had cookies ready when they came back.
Belle ducked under the snow-covered branches. She tried not to knock snow on herself, but on Chip. They laughed and chased each other through the snow; Belle’s skates bounced against her back. Running in a circle, Belle raced back to Mr. Prince and stopped beside him while she caught her breath.
“Do you ice skate a lot, Mr. Prince?” Belle asked. She had been surprised when he asked her and Chip if they would like to go with him. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a gray-haired man on a pair of ice skates before.
“I used to.”
Belle still had a hard time getting Mr. Prince to talk.
“My dad would take me sometimes. We didn’t have skates, so we could only go when we knew someone we could borrow them from,” she said.
Chip ran up and walked on Mr. Prince’s other side. He sneaked smirks at Belle while she talked. “When we didn’t have ice skates we just slide in our shoes. Dad used to say freezing lakes and rivers were God’s way of making winter enjoyable. If we didn’t have anything to skate on, we would spend the whole winter season inside and have no reason to make hot chocolate because we wouldn’t get cold enough to properly enjoy it.”
“I like your dad,” Chip said. “I’m going to have hot chocolate every day in the winter when the war is over.”
“I think there will be many things we will wish to do once the war is over,” Mr. Prince said quietly.
Belle had a list of things she wanted to do; first was to go back home and be with her mum and dad again. She would be back in their little apartment, and everything would be just as it had been before her dad had left.
“This way.” Mr. Prince broke her thoughts when he pushed aside tree branches and revealed the iced over lake she and Chip had visited days before.
Brushing snow off a tree stump, Chip sat down and put on his skates, then glided out over the lake. Belle followed his example. She turned in a slow circle and looked back for Mr. Prince. He slid out onto the ice and wobbled. Belle slid back until she reached his side. She slipped her hand in his and smiled shyly at him. She saw a hint of merriment in his eyes, though it still hid behind his sorrow.
“I’ll race you around the lake!” Chip called. He had skated to the middle of the lake, but now he came back to where they were.
“You think you can win against us?” Mr. Prince asked.
“Of course I can.” Chip shifted his feet and spun in a lazy circle.
Belle looked questioningly up at Mr. Prince and caught the quick smile he directed at her. He even squeezed her hand. She squeezed his back, even though she didn’t think he could feel her small fingers wrapped around his large mitten.
“We will see then,” Mr. Prince said. He didn’t give another warning. He pushed off with one foot, and Belle stayed at his side as Chip passed them up.
As he sped by, Chip waved before he left them behind. Mr. Prince wobbled more, and Belle clenched his hand tighter even though she didn’t think she could hold him up if he fell. He again squeezed her fingers and steadied, then slowly picked up speed. The cold wind pulled at Belle’s curls and stung her cheeks. She easily kept up beside Mr. Prince and laughed as they gained on Chip and then passed him. Chip tried to increase his speed, and Belle waved at him as Mr. Prince carefully turned and skated back the way they had come.
When they reached the spot where they had started, Mr. Prince let go of her hand, and Belle placed her hands on her knees. She giggled when Chip finally caught up.
/> “I didn’t know it was a race, or I’d have beaten you!” he teased.
“Beaten us?” Mr. Prince raised one of his eyebrows. “You weren’t even able to though I gave you a head start.”
“You’re just too slow,” Belle added.
Chip waved one arm in front of himself and bowed grandly.
“Of course I’m not,” he said. “I was being a gentleman.”
“Then you lost the race as a fine gentleman,” Mr. Prince said. Belle thought she heard laughter in his voice.
Four
The sun had set, and gray clouds rolled in, giving the illusion of light even though it neared ten o’clock. Belle had just left the drawing room and started her way to her bedroom when she passed one of the windows which the curtain wasn’t drawn over. She stopped, stared out, and watched as large snowflakes began to drift down out of the clouds. The forest was framed in an almost ghostly light, and something tugged at Belle. Without thinking, she rushed back into the drawing room where Mr. Prince slowly rose from his chair. Everyone else had already gone to bed.
“Goodness!” he said when she ran in. “Is something wrong, child?”
Blushing at her sudden burst of excitement, Belle shook her head, at the same time she grabbed Mr. Prince’s hand.
“It’s snowing,” she said. “Will you come outside with me?”
She thought he would say no the moment she asked it. She was surprised she’d even found the courage to ask, but once she had couldn’t take it back.
“Go outside?” Mr. Prince asked. “It’s late.”
“I know.” Belle dropped his hand. She hadn’t realized she’d held it.
“And what shall we do outside?” he asked. He took her hand in his and patted it.
Belle smiled. “Catch snowflakes?”
“Well, we should hurry then in case it stops snowing.”
They ran down the stairs and out the door together; neither stopped for coats. By the time they got outside the snowflakes were even larger and fell heavier than when Belle had looked out the window. They caught in her eyelashes when she turned her head up. She stuck out her tongue so she could try to catch some, even though her breath melted them before they could get past her lips.
Flinging her arms out, Belle spun in a circle, then stopped and smiled at Mr. Prince whose gray hair was now white. He held his hands out, and it took a moment for Belle to realize what he wanted, but when she did, she slipped her hands into his.
Holding to her firmly but gently, Mr. Prince spun her around and around until they were both too dizzy to stand and fell over. Belle laughed as more snow fell on her face; it tickled her cold cheeks. With a sigh of contentment, she opened her eyes and stared. Mr. Prince smiled at her, but when their eyes met, the smile left his lips, though it stayed in his eyes. He stood up and helped her to her feet.
“We should go inside before you freeze,” he instructed, and Belle nodded, though, at the moment, she felt too warm and happy to notice the cold.
“Are you looking for dragons again today?” Belle asked Chip the next day as she, he, and Mr. Prince took their daily walk.
“Not today, my fair maiden,” Chip said. He slashed his stick through the undergrowth. “Today I am searching for a fearsome troll which has been eating the cabbages.”
“Cabbages?” Mr. Prince held aside a branch for Belle. “I was under the impression cabbages gave trolls stomach aches.”
“In most general cases, yes,” Chip replied, continuing as if Mr. Prince joined in his imaginary games every day. “This particular troll has come under the impression he needs to eat more greenery, which is why I wish to find him now. Once the cabbages are gone, I fear he will start on the holly, which Mother would be most displeased about as she uses holly to decorate for Christmas, which is coming up rather swiftly if anyone has forgotten.”
“How can we forget Christmas?” Belle asked.
“It would take a lot of work to forget it,” Mr. Prince added, “especially because it is the only time of year your mother makes her sugar cookies. I think we do need to find this troll and stop him. We can’t have anything getting in the way of Christmas and your mother’s cookies. Where do you think he might be hiding?”
Belle clasped a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter when Mr. Prince picked up a stick and Chip motioned to a denser area of the trees.
“Very likely this way, near the bridge; follow me.”
Mr. Prince and Belle trekked after him, pushing through the bigger snow drifts. The bridge Chip led them to was nothing more than a little footbridge which spanned a narrow creek, but Chip insisted he had to crawl under it. He went down one side and Mr. Prince down the other. They both wielded their sticks like swords while Belle stayed on top and hung over the side to watch them.
“I don’t see him,” Mr. Prince whispered when he and Chip met in the center of the little bridge.
“Behind you!” Belle yelled to them, and they both turned in opposite directions and slashed with their sticks.
Pushing hair out of her face, Belle called out more directions. “To the right!”
Both turned to their right, then left when Belle yelled it. With a grin, she quickly made two snowballs, then yelled, “Above!”
Chip and Mr. Prince looked up at the same time, and she hit them both, then rolled on her back and laughed at their expressions.
“Your fair maiden has betrayed us,” she heard Mr. Prince say. “What can we do about this?”
“There is only one thing.”
Belle sat up in time to see Chip as he climbed up the bank; he held his stick sword in one hand and a snowball in the other. Squealing with laughter, Belle got up and tried to run, though the snow pulled at her feet. She didn’t make it far before Mr. Prince hit her with a snowball.
She turned, grabbed more snow and patted it into a ball as fast as she could as Chip threw one at her head. She ducked and threw hers, unsure if she hit Mr. Prince, whom she’d aimed for. She knelt in the snow and made more snowballs as Mr. Prince and Chip advanced. The surrounding air filled with snow and their laughter. Soon they were covered head to foot in white powdery snow.
Out of breath, Belle dropped to her back and watched the clouds move over the sky. Chip stood over her and poked her coat sleeve with his stick.
“Do you surrender, fair maiden?” he asked.
“Only if you make me tea,” Belle answered.
“I do not make traitors tea,” Chip said.
“I do.” Mr. Prince reached down and helped her up. “Come, fair maiden. I know just the tea you need.” And he smiled, a real smile he didn’t try to hide.
Filled with unexplainable joy, Belle slipped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her back to the mansion.
“I want to do something for her.”
Mrs. Potts had started to set out Mr. Prince’s breakfast but stopped, straightened, and adjusted her apron as he smoothed the quilt over his bed and then sat in his chair by the fire.
“Pardon me, sir?” she asked.
“Belle. I want to do something for her.” It had kept him up all night. Belle had made him smile—a real smile—something he hadn’t done in nineteen years, and he wanted to find a way to thank her for that.
“You wish to do something for Miss Belle?”
Mrs. Potts stared at him with her wide, expressive eyes, and he almost laughed. He hadn’t surprised her in nearly as long as he had smiled.
“Yes. You’re a mother. What kind of things might a child like?” He looked up and hoped she saw the earnestness in his eyes.
“I’m a mother to a son,” Mrs. Potts said, her voice low and quiet. “Sir, you were a father once, and to a daughter.”
He quickly turned his attention to the fire. He always found it hard enough to think of his dead wife; memories of his daughter cut even deeper into his heart. He’d not even been able to visit their graves, his grief still as strong as the day they had been taken from him.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Mrs. Potts st
epped over to his chair and laid a hand on his shoulder. Even though she was younger than him, he sometimes felt as if she mothered him the same way she did Chip. “I spoke out of line.”
“No.” He shook his head and didn’t shove her hand off as he normally did. “I think I know what I can do for her. Two things, and I need help with both. Will you help me?”
“Of course I will, sir!”
“Good. The first thing is we are going to have a Christmas ball again.”
“B-ball?” Her eyes widened, and he smiled.
“Ball. Just like we had when they were still alive. Exactly the same! And the other surprise you have to keep a secret until the ball. I don’t want Belle to know about it until then.”
“Christmas Ball...” Mrs. Potts said.
“You know the pity with the ball is there are only two fine ladies to dance with,” Lumiere said one afternoon while everyone decorated together.
Belle hadn’t been in the large ballroom before. Her first peek was of a dusty, dim place hidden by heavy curtains and dreary lampstands. It had taken three days to clean it, all of them under the charge of Mrs. Potts and her feather dusters. Even Mr. Prince subjected himself to her scolding and constant orders. Not that it wasn’t fun. For one thing, even if things started to get dull, Cogsworth and Lumiere would begin to bicker.
For nearly a week they’d all talked of the ball nonstop. Excitement filled the mansion as the day drew closer. Mr. Prince said they would hold it the first week of December, the start of what he said would be their Christmas holidays. They would celebrate Christmas properly, war or no war.
“Why is that a pity?” Cogsworth now asked. He and Lumiere strung up the garland Chip, Belle, and Mr. Prince had spent the evening before twisting holly into.
“Because you won’t have a partner.” Lumiere paused long enough to straighten his handlebar mustache.
“You said there will be two ladies, why wouldn’t I have a partner?” Cogsworth threw Lumiere his perfected look of annoyance.
“Well, naturally, both will wish to spend the evening with me.”
Finding the Magic--A Novella Page 3