If Only I Were a Clock
Beauty and the Beast 2017
Disney owns Beauty and the Beast and its characters.
...
It was raining and storming during the voyage across the English Channel. The two British citizens had been taken for servitude by Prince Louis-Alexandre, after the seaside town of Chesterfield, England, was laid siege by his French forces.
Louis-Alexandre, appointed by his relative the King as a general, had taken over the defeated British officer's headquarters, and decided to make off with his enemy's most loyal servants once the war came to a close. The servants were aware that they may never see their home again. They were pawns; spoils of war.
Henry Cogsworth and Beatrice Anne Turner stood in a lower deck cabin, watching the smoky grey sea billows churn. The waves rocked the vessel, causing it to lurch back and forth. They felt safer being able to watch the storm out the small window rather than stay below deck in the darkness, tossed around and apt to fall seasick.
"Do you feel any better, Beatrice?" he asked her, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.
"Yes. My stomach feels better now...do you think we are soon to disembark?" she asked him anxiously.
"It won't be long, I assure you," Cogsworth said to her.
The door of the cabin opened. It was likely one of the Prince's men, barging in on them. Cogsworth and Beatrice winced.
"Bonjour," the young man whispered to them, putting one finger over his lips in a shushing gesture. He was carrying a basket in his arms. Cogsworth noticed he was not dressed in a military uniform. He was civilian.
"I brought you some food from the Prince's quarters. What he doesn't know won't hurt him!" He gave the two English people a friendly- almost impish- smile.
"Thank you," Beatrice said nervously, though she still did not completely trust anyone French. "I'm not very hungry, though."
"I can also bring you some tea," the intruder said. "Monsieur, Mademoiselle- I want to make this difficult situation better for you. In any way I can."
"How would that be?" asked Cogsworth bitterly. "I doubt you would be willing to take a knife to your Prince and slit his throat, and commandeer this ship back to England. Because I would wish no less!"
"I cannot do that, Monsieur," the young man replied. "I wish I could do such a thing, but I am- as you know- outnumbered by Louis-Alexandre's troops. Not all of us Frenchmen are monsters, you know. Je suis désolé." He hung his head in apology.
"I understand. There's nothing you can do, and we don't expect you to risk your life for ours," said Cogsworth in a tired voice, accepting the bundle of croissants and cheese. He had even brought them a bottle of wine. "To help you sleep if it's too much," the mystery man said as he took it from the basket.
"Thank you for your kindness," said Beatrice, warming up to him.
"It is my greatest pleasure," the young man said, giving them a brilliant smile. He reached out to touch Beatrice's shoulder in a friendly gesture, then to shake Cogsworth's hand. "My name is Francois. What is yours?" he asked them.
"I am Henry Cogsworth, and this is Miss Beatrice Turner," Cogsworth said, introducing himself and the girl.
He was barely in his twenties, Cogsworth noted, only a boy. His engaging smile was topped by laughing blue-grey eyes, and his golden-brown hair set in curls and tied in a black ribbon. Not only was he a fine looking boy, but he was radiating an air of cheer, sunshine and optimism. In fact, his cheer was so intense that Cogsworth's awareness of the storm, the rocking ship, and the touch of sickness were fading away in his presence.
"I will be accompanying you all the way to our final destination," Francois told them. "After all, I am a servant of Prince Louis-Alexandre, and I have been in that position since childhood. If you allow me, I will orient you to his castle when we arrive there. It is a grand, immense chateau set in the hills of Alsace-Lorraine, overlooking a quaint village called Villeneuve. I believe you will like it."
While he was speaking with such insane optimism, he took a candle from his pocket, set it on a shelf, and lit it, giving the tiny, dim and musty quarters some needed light and warmth.
"It sounds lovely," Beatrice said. "But it's not home," she added in despair.
"I will help you feel at home as much as I can. I promise you," said Francois. "I will go and-" he lowered his voice- "steal some remedies from His Highness' larder above deck if you're feeling seasick, Mademoiselle." He winked at both of them, and darted out of the cabin.
Cogsworth and Beatrice soon heard another of the French prince's soldiers berating the boy. "Lumiere! Where have you been, garçon? His Highness wants his tobacco and pipe this instant! Fetch his tobacco from the storage room! Now!"
"Will do, Lieutenant!" Francois, whose surname they had just learned was 'Lumiere,' replied.
The surname seemed perfect for him, Cogsworth thought, as he looked at the warm candle flickering on a table.
A while later, Lumiere returned with medicine he'd snuck from the larder for Beatrice, as well as some tea and cups. Beatrice's sadness and homesickness was brightened when she saw that it was English Earl Grey tea, with honey- her favorite. The French servant was fluent in English, and seemed well educated. He made pleasant conversation with the two for as long as he was able to, before he was called back up to do the Prince's bidding.
Lumiere had managed to cheer Beatrice up, and admittedly, Henry as well. As Cogsworth looked out the porthole window, he saw the storm had passed, Within the still cloudy but brightening sky, a rainbow had appeared.
...
When Cogsworth was alone later that evening, and the girl, Beatrice, had gone to sleep in the next room, he started to ponder his circumstances. He had failed as a defender of his English town, and now he and Beatrice were captured and being sent away. It was a dreadful shame.
He had been an officer of the British army for several years in his youth, but took an honorable discharge. During his years in the army, he realized he was 'different.' Living among men in close quarters awoke feelings and shameful longings that were simply too much to bear. After five years- when the first war ended before the recent one- he left it all behind.
After his discharge, he spent his years as a butler at a Royal Naval officer's summer home and headquarters by the sea, a job he'd acquired by lucky chance. He still felt as if he was serving his country the best way he could. Living and working among women-including Miss Beatrice, the young kitchen maid- was exactly what he wanted. But not in the way one would think. It was an escape; better to avoid what made him weak.
...
The next morning, the ship docked safely and Cogsworth and Beatrice were taken by carriage convoy on a journey east, led by the Prince's coach. Along the way, Lumiere encouraged them, telling them about life in the castle, teaching them basic conversational French, and always making them laugh. During the journey, Lumiere sat so close to Cogsworth in the cramped quarters that he felt self-conscious, and the shame he'd felt in the army returned.
Lumiere was at least twenty years younger than Cogsworth. Technically, he was young enough to be his son. Still, he was the most mesmerizing and alluring man he had ever met in his entire life.
At one point during the carriage ride, Cogsworth even emphasized that Beatrice was single, hoping he could facilitate something between the two, but the quiet and modest young woman didn't seem interested. Of course it would be the case, he realized; she had lost a sweetheart to death last year, and still mourned the man. It would still take some time before she opened up to anyone- much less a Frenchman! Presently, she seemed to depend on Cogsworth to be her pillar of strength. She trusted him completely, and Henry, in turn, thought of her almost like a younger sister.
Finally, four days later, the three arrived in Villeneuve accompanied by Prince Louis-Alexandre and other close staff with fanfare. It was a rainy day again, and the Prince made a great show of stepping out of his carriage in pouring rain to a group of waving villagers, excited to see any kind of pomp and circumstance his homecoming entailed. He quickly ducked inside his coach afterward, waving to the crowd with his handkerchief. As the convoy went up the forested hillside, Cogsworth and Beatrice realized that it was as beautiful a place as Lumiere had described.
A rainbow appeared again over the turrets of the castle, and it gave Cogsworth a sense of hope and new beginnings.
...
Lumiere kept his promise. He showed Henry and Beatrice 'the ropes' and everything that they needed to learn to serve the Prince's household. The two learned to speak decent, conversational French within the first six months. Henry was the perfect butler- hospitable, organized, and efficient as clockwork- and it wasn't long before he rose to the rank of head of household.
Lumiere was his constant companion, and despite the over two-decade age gap, they became the best of friends. Francois Lumiere had an endearing habit of demonstrating great physical affection- he saw nothing wrong with kissing Henry's cheek, hugging him tightly by the shoulder, or clasping his hand whenever he had 'great news to tell.' One such instance was the announcement that the Prince's lovely and kind wife was with child.
Lumiere, Cogsworth, Beatrice, and a fellow servant named Louis Chapeau doted on the Princess with such care during her pregnancy. They put on a grand celebration the day that their baby son, Adam, was born. The presence of the child brightened the servants' spirits, and they all took to helping raise him. Those years were happy times for them all. 'Days in the sun,' they liked to say.
The only cloud was Cogsworth and Beatrice's wish to be allowed to return to visit England, a wish that was denied as long as Louis-Alexandre was alive. Cogsworth missed home, but as time went on, his memories of cold English winters were eclipsed by the joy of being with his best friend. Lumiere's casual, friendly touches and embraces were as strong as ever, so it came to be a source of terrible vexation the day that Lumiere made 'the announcement.'
"I've finally decided on the girl I wish to take courting," he said with a dreamy sigh, his arm slung around Cogsworth's shoulder. He pointed across the great hall to a pretty dark-skinned, black haired girl in a white maid's dress. "She is the one."
"Are you certain?" Cogsworth asked, trying to contain the negative emotions stirring in his stomach.
"Oui, mon ami! Is it not all right with you that she is of a different skin color than I? I would hope that you don't have such prejudices."
"No, I don't think there's anything wrong with that, Lumiere. Of course not! You should pursue whomever it is you wish. She's lovely."
Lumiere gazed at the young girl, enthralled. "They call her 'Plumette,' because she wears feathers in her hair. It isn't her birth name. Her birth name is very exotic and hard for everyone to pronounce."
Cogsworth remained quiet, gulping a little.
"When are you going to find a wife, mon ami?" Lumiere asked, poking him in the stomach with his elbow.
"I don't know..." Cogsworth replied.
"Let us go down to the pub in Villeneuve tonight. We ought to know more of the local folks!"
"But Lumiere- I'm an Englishman, and a former British soldier! None will take too kindly to me. I'd much rather stay around the castle."
"Come now, Cogsworth! Even Beatrice has become acquainted with a fellow from Villeneuve, and they are getting along very well! I helped that come to pass, of course. I had her answer the door and make small talk whenever the pottery artist came to sell his wares!" He laughed.
"Yes, but-"
"Just a few drinks, tonight?" Lumiere gave Cogsworth an affectionate pat on the cheek.
"Very well then." he replied, his face burning up. Yes, indeed. He needed to meet a lady. Propriety and tradition demanded it. And Lumiere had his heart set on Plumette, there was no denying that.
...
The inn and pub was noisy and crowded. Cogsworth and Lumiere walked in and sat at a table with no one paying all that much attention to them. Most of the attention was on a tall, black haired, finely dressed gentleman at the head of a long table, talking in a loud voice.
"That man is Gerard Legume. He's a member of gentry, and he owns this place," Lumiere told Cogsworth. "He's a bit of a blowhard, but other than that, he's an amiable fellow."
"I see," said Cogsworth. A barmaid came to their table then. "What would you like?" she asked.
"I would like a glass of Antech Blanquette de Limoux sparkling wine," said Lumiere.
The barmaid gave him an exasperated look. "We don't have that here. We have beer, ale and red wine. That's it!"
"Very well, then. Red wine for both of us, is that all right, Cogsworth?"
Cogsworth nodded. The thin, mousy woman walked off, near the table where the large group of men were listening to the loud-voiced gentleman. As she went past, one of them grabbed her by the elbow.
"You didn't pour my last beer full enough! Refill it now!" he bellowed to her rudely.
The barmaid didn't take too well to that kind of treatment. "It's for your own good! Your wife says you spend too much money here and you owe us some tabs from last week!" she shot back, pulling away from him.
"How dare you, you cheap little wench! No woman talks back to me!" the man yelled. He squeezed her elbow again. "Or I'll show you what can happen if she tries!" He leered at her, showing crooked, rotting teeth.
"Would you really want that to happen, Claude? I mean- LOOK at her!" another man bellowed. The whole tavern erupted with men's laughter. "No wonder she's a spinster!"
The men kept laughing. Lumiere and Cogsworth noticed the barmaid's face crumpling in despair. Her plucky attitude had been taken down immediately with the men's insults.
The well dressed gentleman, Monsieur Legume, finally spoke. "Clothilde! If you insist on being uppity around the customers, I can hire a new barmaid. A much prettier one," he added, and the laughing and taunting continued.
Cogsworth and Lumiere had enough. They could not stand to see a woman- no matter what her social station and appearance was- being mistreated this way. Lumiere stood up to confront them, and Cogsworth followed.
"Leave this innocent woman alone! She is only trying to do her job!" Lumiere shouted.
"Who are you?" Monsieur Legume scoffed.
Cogsworth, being a man much older than Lumiere and carrying more authority, spoke. "We are representatives of His Highness, from the castle. And if we see anyone acting out of line, or- or mistreating barmaids, so to speak, then the owner will have his liquor license taken away- by edict of the Prince!"
The entire bar exploded in laughter, ten times louder than before.
"Did you hear that? Louis-Alexandre cares about whether a spinster barmaid is 'mistreated!'" Monsieur Legume said, unable to stop the giggles from coloring his handsome face. "Although you do have a point that my liquor license could be taken away. He's taxed me enough that I have to make my brewers water down the ale. Of course, I just raise the prices, don't I, gentlemen? But if I have to fork over more livres to pay for his vulgar balls and banquets, I do fear I'll go out of business." He shrugged. "So I must make some tightening of my pockets, then." He gave the barmaid a derisive look. "Clothilde, you're fired."
Clothilde's face fell. She turned and ran out of the tavern amid the men's jeering and laughing. Cogsworth led Lumiere to follow her.
She was standing at the edge of the fountain, splashing her face with water when the two men came to her. "Mademoiselle?" Cogsworth said, tentatively putting a hand on the plain-looking woman's shoulder.
She turned around to look at him, and her eyes shimmered with tears for a moment; but she raised her chin in dignity. "Don't talk to me!" she spat.
"I am sorry, Mademoiselle. Please, please forgive my meddling. I can see about finding you a situation in the castle," said Cogsworth in a kind, gentle tone.
"You would?" she said, keeping her expression hard, filled with mistrust.
"My name is Henry, Mademoiselle. I take it yours is Clothilde?"
"Oui," she nodded.
"That is a very beautiful name," said Cogsworth. "Of course, as you can already tell, I'm English. All Frenchwomen's names are like music to me. But 'Clothilde' is the prettiest name I've heard ever since I was forced into servitude by our wonderful Prince Louis-Alexandre."
Cogsworth glanced over at Lumiere, who gave him a grin. Lumiere's smile was beautiful as always, but Cogsworth tried to tear his eyes away from his best male friend and focus on consoling the unfortunate woman.
Clothilde's expression softened. "You're too charming...and kind...to be an Englishman. My Papa used to say that Englishmen come across the sea, steal French children at night, and grind their bones for jam with their tea."
"Well I'm certain your parents meant well, but they are truly mistaken. I haven't ground up any children's bones since I have arrived here." He smiled, and she finally smiled tentatively back at him with wide blue eyes, feeling him to be her protector.
He studied her expression. Henry personally thought that the woman- whose age he guessed to be early thirties, so not quite a spinster hag yet- wasn't 'ugly' at all, only plain. And she in no way deserved such harsh judgement and cruelty from those men. And not to mention, most of the men in that tavern were ugly as sin anyway- with the exception of that Monsieur Legume, whose heart was ugly on the inside. Perhaps with more food to fill out her scant figure, a decent, clean maid's dress, her hair washed and curled, her face clean, she might actually become presentable and nice looking.
Henry had never been that intrigued or desirous of any women, but ever since he became Beatrice's companion and protector during their capture and voyage, he felt the need to extend his sense of chivalry to all of the fairer sex, despite his disinterest in getting romantically involved.
"Would you care to ride back to the castle with us?" he asked her. He was answered with a shy nod.
Before long, Clothilde Boucher became a frequent companion of Henry Cogsworth. He had asked Prince Louis-Alexandre if she could be taken in as a maid, but the Prince said he had all the servants he needed. If by chance she were his wife- then, he could make allowances.
So it wasn't long before Henry and Clothilde went before the altar at St. Dionysus' Church in Villeneuve and were pronounced man and wife, accompanied by their younger companions, Lumiere and the girl he was now courting, Plumette.
The first year or two was decent. Clothilde looked up to Henry as if he were her knight in shining armor. She affectionately called him 'Henri,' the French version of his name. She worked as a scullery maid in the castle for a while, but the staff noticed that she was getting rather cantankerous and argumentative with the other maids. Her time as kitchen maid did not last. After one argument with a fellow maid, with Beatrice trying to break up the fight, Clothilde threw down a pan and left the castle in a huff, saying she was going back to Villeneuve to live with her sister. She still remained married to Henry, but as the years went by, their relationship became more and more distant.
One reason of course, was obvious. Cogsworth preferred the company of his best friend Lumiere before anyone else. He gave Lumiere his blessing as the young man courted Plumette, and married.
He kept his true feelings a guarded secret, and as the years rolled on, and the child Prince Adam grew older, and the Princess fell ill and died, and Louis-Alexandre died, their friendship became the only thing in Henry's life worth living for, it seemed. He prayed that his errant heart would just listen to reason and stop its foolishness.
He wished- all too often- that his heart of flesh would become like his rational mind. Logical and efficient. A heart of steel and copper; a reliable mechanism instead of a wound hidden within.
When the curse finally came, years later, Henry Cogsworth found in it a sense of security and comfort. Somehow, a brass statue in a candelabrum didn't make him burn with as much longing, and even though his own curse didn't prevent him from having human emotions, it provided a quiet and predictable life. He only feared that someday he would indeed become the cold, lifeless, copper and steel mechanism that he'd foolishly wished to be.
...