Belle Takes Flight_Disney Beauty and the Beast

by Kathy Mccullough

  “I told Belle that already, last night,” Elise said.

  “Yes, but I thought…” Belle shook her head. It didn’t make sense. “The author’s name on the book is—”

  “Pierre LeFaux,” Granny T answered. “I know.”

  “That man’s only a name on the cover,” Elise said. “He stole it from her. Tell her, Granny T.”

  “To be fair,” Granny T said, “he didn’t steal it. I gave it to him—foolishly. Pierre LeFaux owned the publishing company. He liked the book but refused to publish it under my name. ‘Women don’t write books,’ he said.” She sighed. “I was a young mother, and George was struggling with his bakery. We needed the money the publisher offered me. I trusted him, so I let him put his own name on it. When the book became popular, he claimed true authorship—and kept the profits.”

  “Quelle horreur!” Lumiere declared. Cogsworth nodded in agreement.

  “George and I tried to fight, but it was impossible,” Granny T said. “We didn’t have a formal contract, and no one believed it was my book. We ran out of money, and eventually we decided to move back here to the village.”

  “Did you ever write any other books?” Belle asked.

  Granny T shook her head. “Maybe someday…”

  Paul leaned his head in the front door. “Is the king ready for his carriage?” he asked.

  * * *

  Paul introduced Belle, Cogsworth, and Lumiere to Monsieur LeFer, the blacksmith, a large, burly man with a bushy black beard.

  “These lads are my apprentices,” Monsieur LeFer said, indicating two skinny teenage boys standing behind him. “Sebastian and Bernard.” The boys nodded shyly.

  Elise held up her new steam-valve rod sword. “The royal carriage is this way!” she said. She led Belle and the others around the side of the house.

  “It’s actually a donkey cart,” Paul explained, catching up with Belle and Elise. “But thanks to the parts from your steam balloon, it’s—”

  “Incroyable!” Lumiere exclaimed.

  “Indeed! Incredible!” Cogsworth echoed.

  Belle circled the cart-turned-carriage, studying it in amazement.

  Pieces of steel from the balloon’s boiler had been soldered together and attached to the cart, with lumber from the cedar basket used for the carriage doors. The doors had been painted a lustrous royal blue and were adorned with glass beads and river stones. The polished steel sides gleamed, setting off the landscape design chiseled into the metal. There was a canopied seat at the front, where Lumiere would sit.

  “Always dreamed of being an artist,” Monsieur LeFer said in response to the awed admiration of Belle and the others. “Hammering into steel’s as close as I got.”

  “You are an artist,” Belle insisted. The others agreed.

  The body of the carriage was a strange, angular shape, but its oddness added to its impressiveness. It was something an eccentric king would commission. It would certainly capture the castle guards’ attention while she slipped away unnoticed.

  Paul opened a panel at the back of the carriage to reveal the space where Belle would hide.

  “Ah, here he is!” Monsieur LeFer gestured behind him to a tall, mustached young man leading a sturdy black horse by the reins.

  “Antoine has agreed to lend you his horse,” Paul explained.

  “Coco has made the journey before and knows the roads,” said Antoine. “He’ll keep you on the right path.”

  “Thank you,” Belle told Antoine. She smiled at the horse and stroked his mane. “And thank you, Coco.”

  The horse whinnied in response.

  “It should take you about an hour to get to the castle,” Paul said. “It looks like you’ll have decent weather.”

  He pointed to the sky. It was still gray, but there was a glow to it, hinting at the sun hiding behind the clouds.

  “Rain can come suddenly here, though,” Granny T warned.

  “We have experienced that firsthand, madame,” Cogsworth said.

  “What happens if you get captured, too?” Elise asked.

  Belle shifted her gaze to Lumiere and Cogsworth. They hadn’t discussed the possibility, but Belle knew they were aware of it. As she met their eyes, an unspoken agreement passed among them: their plan was worth the risk, because it was the best chance they had.

  “We came to rescue the Prince,” Belle told Elise. “We can’t leave without trying. If we’re caught, then…we’ll still have tried.”

  “And we will keep trying,” Lumiere said.

  “Even behind bars,” Cogsworth added.

  Belle smiled and reached out to take the hands of her two friends.

  “It’s not so grim as all that,” Paul said. “We’re not going to let any of you rot in a dungeon. If necessary, we’ll gather every single villager and break down the castle walls.”

  “We will!” Elise said, raising the steam-valve rod above her head. “Don’t forget—I still have a sword!”

  Belle fidgeted inside the carriage’s hidden compartment, trying to get comfortable. Every bump in the rocky road jolted along her spine. Her legs bent at awkward angles no matter how she adjusted them, so that one leg was always falling asleep. Granny T and Nicole had lined the compartment with several wool blankets, but the blankets had bunched up around Belle’s hips and shoulders as she shifted back and forth. They now served less as padding than as annoying additional passengers, rudely hogging the space.

  “…and verily I offer to you, fellow Majesty and Highness…”

  Belle took her mind off her cramped, bruised body by listening to the muffled voice of Cogsworth, practicing his attempts at “royal” speech.

  “…the regal-est of regal friendships—a ‘regal-ship,’ if you will—”

  “Regal-ship?” Lumiere’s voice rose above Cogsworth’s. “Do you want them to lock us up before Belle has even started her search?”

  “It’s a king’s prerogative to make up words,” Cogsworth replied haughtily.

  “Where did you learn that? Did you make it up?” Lumiere sighed. “I think it might be better if we pretend you’re mute, mon ami. I’ll do all the talking, and you can just make hand signals.”

  Belle laughed to herself as Cogsworth sputtered in protest—until the carriage hit another bump, and her head thumped against the roof of the compartment. “Ow!”

  “Belle!” Lumiere hissed. “You’re supposed to remain silent. You’re lucky we’re not near the castle yet.”

  “I know,” Belle called up. “I’m sorry. These bumps—”

  “Try to steer better, Lumiere,” Cogsworth instructed. “Pay less attention to me and more to the road.”

  “I am steering perfectly. I cannot make the road less bumpy.” He paused. “But I can slow down the horse, if that will help,” he called to Belle.

  “No. I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t want us to get caught in a storm and—”

  Her words were interrupted by a loud pinging against the metal carriage.

  “I am afraid it is too late for us to outrun the rain,” Lumiere said. Within seconds, the pinging had increased to pounding, which was accompanied by a loud crack of thunder.

  “Ach!” Cogsworth shouted. “My royal robe!”

  “Mon Dieu!” Lumiere said. “I’m afraid our carriage is not quite watertight.”

  Belle yelled for Lumiere to stop. “I need to get out for a minute!”

  “But, Belle, you’ll get wet,” Lumiere protested.

  “That doesn’t matter! It’s more important that you two not show up at the castle gates drenched. Rein in Coco and let me out.”

  Five minutes later, Belle was back inside the compartment, but without the blankets. She’d draped one over Coco and the rest over the roof of the carriage and the driver’s-seat canopy.

  Belle no lon
ger had any padding to protect her legs and arms from the soldered seams of the wagon poking into her with each bump. Her clothes were soaked. She hugged herself and tried not to shiver as the journey continued. She closed her eyes and pictured herself back at the castle, seated by a fire with Maurice and the Prince. The fantasy warmed her for a few seconds, and she forgot where she was—until she was thrown against a wall of the compartment as the carriage abruptly stopped.

  “We’ve arrived, Your Majesty!” Lumiere called loudly.

  “Wait!” Cogsworth said in an urgent whisper. “I forgot what I’m supposed to say. Give me a minute.” Belle clenched her fists, willing Cogsworth not to panic.

  “Don’t worry, mon ami,” Lumiere said, his voice calm and soothing. “I am the one to speak first anyway. You’re a king. You speak only to royalty. I will deal with the guards.”

  Belle shifted to face a trapdoor that would let her sneak out of the compartment.

  “Hmm. I don’t see any guards, however,” Lumiere continued. “I wonder if—”

  “WHO GOES THERE?” a voice boomed from somewhere above them. Belle guessed the guards were stationed in a tower on a wall at the top of the castle. “NO ADMITTANCE!”

  “Bonjour!” Lumiere called brightly, as if the guard had merely uttered a friendly hello. “I am Monsieur Lumiere, chief courtier of King Cogsworth, His Royal Majesty of La Petite Ville à Côté de la Mer. We have come to—”

  “NO ADMITTANCE!” the guard yelled louder.

  “Ah, but we are here to see King Robert and Princess Marianne.”

  “His Majesty and Her Highness are not accepting visitors.”

  “Princess Marianne is expecting us.”

  “Expecting…” There was a pause, and Belle could just make out two arguing voices, still coming from high above. “La Petite Ville de what?” the guard called down.

  Lumiere coughed. “Pardon, messieurs. My throat is a little—eh, eh—scratchy. We had not prepared for the…shall we say, your ‘temperamental’ weather here.” His voice grew quieter and quieter as he spoke. “I’m afraid I may have caught a—eh, eh—cold, which makes it difficult to yell. It would be so much easier if you would—”

  “What? What? Speak up!”

  “I am dreadfully sorry, messieurs, but…” Lumiere was nearly whispering now. He coughed again, then waited, silent.

  A few moments later, Belle heard a loud creak as the gates swung open. She smiled. Lumiere was playing his role perfectly.

  “Bonjour encore!” Lumiere said, returning to his normal voice. “It is so nice to meet face to face in this time of gates and walls and impersonal postal correspondence, is it not?” He shook Coco’s reins and the horse clip-clopped forward. “In La Petite Ville à Côté de la Mer, it is sunny every day! You should visit—”

  “Hold on a minute!” the guard barked. “You can’t come through here.”

  “We needed to get out of that puddle,” Lumiere replied. “The wheels of King Cogsworth’s royal carriage were sinking.”

  “Halt, halt, halt!” a second, squeaky voice shouted.

  “Mais oui! As you see we are only inside enough…” Lumiere paused and lightly stomped one foot on the floor of the carriage—a signal to Belle that they were inside the gates. She blew some warm air on her cold fingers and grabbed the handle of the trapdoor. She heard Lumiere leap to the ground. “We shall venture no farther until you two gentlemen say the word,” he continued. “Now allow me to explain to you our mission….” His voice grew fainter as he led the guards away from the carriage.

  Belle carefully swung open the trapdoor. A gust of cold air blew in on her, sending a chill through her wet clothes. She shivered and felt a sneeze building. She held it in until the urge passed and then quietly climbed out and crept along the side of the carriage, keeping her head low. When she reached the carriage door, she caught Cogsworth’s eye through the window. She could sense his nervousness, but he did his best to look confident as he met her gaze. He nodded to her that it was safe to move forward.

  Belle continued toward the front of the carriage. The entrance to the castle lay ahead, at the center of an arched stone path bordered by the castle’s protective outer wall. She peered around Coco and caught a glimpse of the guards. They were leaning toward Lumiere, who had lowered his voice again, capturing their attention. Belle darted toward the stone path, in the opposite direction from where the men stood.

  “Her Highness would have alerted us if she was expecting anybody,” Belle heard the squeaky-voiced guard inform Lumiere as she slipped around the side of the castle.

  “That is not what Princess Marianne’s messenger told us, monsieur,” Lumiere replied.

  “Messenger?” The guard’s voice faded as Belle moved farther away. “We would know if she had sent a messenger.”

  Rainwater pooled in muddy puddles along the path, and the stones were covered with patches of moss. Vines covered the castle walls. Belle glanced up. Just as the base of the castle had disappeared into the mist when they’d flown over it in the steam balloon, the top of the castle was invisible, its towers vanishing into a gray haze.

  There was fog in front of Belle, too, as if the moisture in the air had become trapped between the castle and its outer wall. Because the path curved around the castle, she couldn’t see the end of it. It seemed to go on forever.

  She searched the base of the ivy-covered castle walls, looking for the barred windows of a dungeon cell, but the vines were thickest at the base of the wall, hiding whatever lay behind them. Belle grabbed a handful and pulled. Thorns pricked her palms as she tore the plant away from the stones.

  No window.

  She made her way around the castle and continued to tear at the lower vines. Soon her fingers and palms were scraped and bleeding. Mud soaked into her shoes.

  “Where are you?” Belle whispered. She thought of how many times she’d asked this question of the Magic Mirror. A sense of hopelessness came over her—why had she thought this rescue would work?

  She tore and tore, taking her frustration out on the vines. “There has to be a window. There has to.” A thick vine resisted her tugging, and she grabbed it in both hands. “Where…are…you?” she asked as she yanked, her anger building. “Where…are…” The vine came free—and Belle fell backward, slamming down onto the wet stones.

  “Belle?” a voice called.

  Belle froze. Had she imagined it? There seemed to be only an eerie silence surrounding her.

  Then the call came again: “Belle?”

  It was a familiar voice….

  The voice she had been searching for.

  Belle darted toward the sound of the Prince’s voice.

  “Where are you?” she called in a loud whisper.

  “How did you get here?” the Prince replied. Belle followed his voice to a thick patch of vines farther along the wall. “You need to leave,” he continued, louder. “Now. It’s too dangerous for—”

  “Shhh! The guards will hear you. Lumiere and Cogsworth are still at the gate.”

  Belle was now on the opposite side of the grounds from where she’d entered, and she could hear Lumiere as she neared the Prince’s cell window. “S’il vous plaît,” he was saying, “why not just ask Princess Marianne?” Belle had told her friends to leave if they were turned away, but they’d obviously ignored her instructions.

  She found the window and pulled away the vines. The Prince’s face was barely visible in the darkness of the cell, but a wave of relief came over her—she’d found him.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” the Prince whispered.

  “It’s too late for that. We’re here.” Belle extended her arm through the narrow space between two bars. The Prince reached up to take her hand in both of his and squeezed.

  “It’s so good to see you….” He let go. “But you have to leave
, Belle. Please. If anything happened to you…”

  A sudden sharp wind blew down from above and cut through Belle’s wet clothes. She shivered and hugged herself. “We came here to rescue you,” she told the Prince. “I’m not leaving unless you’re with me.” She waited for a reply, but none came. “If you want us—all of us—to get home safely, then you’ll have to help.”

  The Prince met her eyes. “How can I help, Belle? I’m locked in a dungeon.”

  “Where’s the Magic Atlas?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I know you used it to get here. It has to be on the grounds somewhere. Did you drop it?”

  “No, I…It’s complicated.” The Prince looked away. “There’s so much you don’t know.”

  “I know that the woman who locked you up is Princess Marianne,” Belle said. “I know she’s your cousin.”

  The Prince’s expression was a mixture of admiration and bewilderment.

  “I’ll explain everything later, after I get you out.”

  “There’s no way to get me out, Belle,” the Prince insisted. “Princess Marianne has the atlas. She took my knapsack before locking me up. The atlas was inside.”

  “Why did she lock you up? Does she know who you are?”

  “Yes, that’s why she…Belle, she’s not herself after everything that’s happened. I betrayed her. I betrayed her parents.”

  “How?” Belle asked. “I know Queen Cecile died, and that King Robert and Princess Marianne are devastated, but you aren’t responsible for that.”

  “They asked for my help,” the Prince said. “They sent a messenger. I turned him away without even finding out who had sent him. I turned everyone away back then. King Robert had sent him to ask me for money so they could finish the school here. I didn’t know Queen Cecile was dying. I didn’t know any of it until later, after the Enchantress cast her spell on me. By then it was too late.”

  The Prince hung his head, dissolving again into the shadows of the cell.

  “You would have helped if you’d known,” Belle said, certain this was true. “That’s why you came, isn’t it? To offer your help now.”