Chapter 4

The Memories of an Empty Timepiece

Long hours had passed and night had fallen heavily over the castle. The grand feast had long since ended, although smaller clusters of friends still celebrated together. Lumière had vanished with Babette to rejoice in private, leaving Cogsworth alone to his musing.

The head of the house stood alone in his bedchambers, staring out at the starry sky without really seeing it. His thoughts were centred on the young girl who had vanished without a sign. While he acted unaffected in the public eye, he could worry openly by himself. Ella was young, beautiful and alone; a dangerous status for a girl in times such as these.

Why am I so worried? Cogsworth wondered to himself, although he almost instantly knew the answer. In the years under the enchantment he had grown to see the young girl as a friend. Being an Englishman in a French castle he didn't have many of those, with the exception of Mrs. Potts and, on most days, Lumière. He had enjoyed the friendly, if saucy, way that Ella had treated him, respecting his authority but also talking to him as an equal. They shared a common trait that bound them together: they were both outsiders.

"Where have you run off to, girl?" Cogsworth asked aloud, letting his quiet voice drift out the opened window.

"Where has who gone?" a cheerful but gentle voice asked from behind. Cogsworth jumped in surprise and spun around. Mrs. Potts stood in the doorway, watching him with maternal curiosity. It was no shock he hadn't heard her approach; he had grown so used to listening for the clicking hop of objects that footsteps were an alien sound to him.

"Mrs. Potts," Cogsworth addressed shortly.

"Who has gone?" she repeated, coming to stand next to him at the window.

Cogsworth desperately wanted to say that it was nothing but he knew he couldn't. The elderly woman would never believe him, and besides, he owed it to her to be honest. She had taken him under her wing since his arrival, acting as a replacement mother for the one he had lost so very long ago.

Cogsworth sighed, steeling himself for the plunge. "Just a friend. Ella. She was supposed to be staying here but she suddenly vanished and we haven't heard from her yet."

"The hawk girl?" Mrs. Potts asked in confusion. "I thought she already lived here?"

Cogsworth shook his head and quickly recounted the explanation Ella had given him. "And now I worry about her. I don't like the thought of her out on her own."

"You seem to have become good friends," Mrs. Potts said but there was a hidden smile in her voice. Cogsworth however was lost in thought once more and did not catch the implication.

"Yes, very good friends," he answered dully.

Mrs. Potts sighed. Obviously subtlety wasn't going to work on this one. "Do you love her, Cogsworth?"

This statement jerked the head of house promptly back to reality.

"No, of course not," Cogsworth replied instantly. "We are friends and will be nothing more."

Mrs. Potts clicked her tongue sadly. "That's a shame. It might do you good to have a little companionship. Maybe it would help you relax."

Even though he knew she had meant no harm, Cogsworth couldn't help but be stung by her words. He was the head of house with a castle to manage. He couldn't afford to relax. He had a duty, and a very important one at that, that required his full attention. If he let himself be distracted by a relationship he might end up like Lumière. Cogsworth shuddered at the thought.

"I have no time for romance," Cogsworth informed Mrs. Potts. For some reason the elderly lady looked disappointed.

"I will leave you to your duties then." Mrs. Potts touched his arm lightly. "Don't stay up too late worrying."

Cogsworth smiled faintly in response as the motherly woman left. Mind still elsewhere, he returned his unfocused gaze to the window. The cold night air bit into his flesh and the cleansed smell of rain still hung in the air. Cogsworth took a deep breath, revelling in the ability to feel the evening chill for the first time in a decade, but as much as he tried to distract himself he couldn't get his mind off of Mrs. Potts' question.

Do I love Ella? Impossible!

Cogsworth shook himself. He knew that what he had told Mrs. Potts was no lie. He was a career-oriented person and he simply didn't have the time for a relationship. Least of all with a girl like Ella. She was so young, barely old enough to be considered a woman, but Cogsworth was nearing the age of forty and felt even older. The spell had kept each of the servants at the same age while they had been transformed, so although he had lived ten years he had not aged.

Besides, he couldn't offer any girl the promise of a romantic relationship. He hadn't been much of a romantic since…

Cogsworth felt his eyes drifting over to the stand beside his bed. In the top drawer, beneath a stack of various papers, was the reason. The reason he had come to France. The reason he had lost contact with all of his old friends, one by one. The reason his only concern was his work.

Without remembering ever moving, Cogsworth found himself perched on the edge of his bed, the top drawer open before him. Holding his breath, Cogsworth shifted aside the small pile of parchments and lifted out a little wooden box. The hinges creaked as he opened it, rusty from years of idleness.

Inside the box was another collection of parchment, a small golden ring on a chain, and a faded portrait. Cogsworth gently brushed his fingers over the ribbon holding the stack of letters together and the gold ring before grasping the portrait frame and removing it from the wooden box.

The painting showed a beautiful young woman, staring up from the canvas. Her long golden hair brushed the tops of her slender shoulders, framing her delicate white face. Electrifying blue eyes gazed from the centre of her face and Cogsworth felt his breath catch in his chest. She looked so real that he longed to gently touch her face but refrained himself. The canvas was ageing and he was afraid of tearing it. This was the only lasting way to look upon the face of the only person he had ever loved, a face he had almost become unable to recall.


"Cogsworth." The sweet call fell on his ears gratefully and he rushed towards the sound. In those days he had been more lean and fit, and moving with speed was no concern for him. He rounded a corner to find his summoner sitting on the sill of a window, gazing out with ecstatic eyes.

"What is it?" Cogsworth asked, moving closer to her. Wordlessly, she pointed out at the horizon. There the sun was just beginning to peek over the edge of the plains, dying the sky the colour of a pale rose.

"The sunrise," the girl said, savouring the words as they passed her lips. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Indeed," Cogsworth answered, leaning in to kiss her brow softly. "As beautiful as its watcher, Elaine."

Elaine smiled at the gesture. "I get up early every morning just to watch this. I think this is the most beautiful sunrise that I have ever seen. This has made my day wonderful."

"Then would you make my day wonderful as well?" Cogsworth asked and as he did he withdrew his hand from his pocket. In his palm rested a small golden ring, decorated with a single pink stone. "I love you and I will until the day I die. Elaine, will you marry me?"

Elaine had gasped, both hands jumping to cover her mouth in surprise. Then warm tears filled her eyes as she silently nodded and fell into Cogsworth's embrace.


They were wed within the year and enjoyed their new lives together. One night Cogsworth had stopped at a tavern on his way home for a quick drink. He had gotten caught up in a game of cards and only when his opponent left to turn in for the night did he realize how late it was. Cogsworth had rushed home, preparing apologies, but when he neared his house he found a crowd gathered outside.

He forced his way through the throng desperately, fear clawing at his insides. Several people tried to grab his arms and hold him back but he fought them all off. He finally reached the front door to his house and entered it. Half a dozen men were standing inside, surveying the scene before them with wide eyes.

All of the furniture had been thrown aside and shattered glass littered the floor, but Cogsworth had eyes for only one sight. Lying in the middle of the room was a blanket-covered form.

Cogsworth felt his stomach clench, nausea making him weak. He stumbled to the blanket, ignoring the cautionary protests of the other men, and lifted it to view what was beneath. Elaine.

A howl of remorse rent from his lips, echoing every ounce of shock and pain that filled his heart. He clasped the already cold hand of his bride and pressed it to his cheek, tears of purest anguish pouring from his eyes.

If only he had come straight home from work, but no, he had wanted a little leisure. A little leisure at the cost of the thing dearest to his heart. It was in that moment that Cogsworth had decided duty took the foremost role and leisure was a wasted experience.

The widower's agony was not over, however. The killer had been apprehended less than a quarter mile from Cogsworth's home and hung the next morning, but not before the city mortician informed them all that the deceased woman had been with child.

A few weeks after Elaine's funeral the Queen had offered him a new position. Her surrogate son, Prince Adam of France, had become rather difficult and she needed someone to work in his castle and manage the household. Wanting to be as far from the memory of his shame, Cogsworth readily accepted and departed for France within the week.


Cogsworth felt tears falling from his eyes and quickly moved the painting so as not to damage it. He set the portrait on his bedside table and leaned back into his pillows, sobbing uncontrollably. When his tears began to slow, his mind returned to his previous thoughts.

Do I love Ella? he pondered to himself once more.

Cogsworth realized with a pang of sadness that it would be impossible for him to love anyone. He had given his whole heart to his bride and it had gone with her to the grave. All that remained of him was a body wearied beyond its years and a mind focused only on his work duties. Even if he longed to, even if he found a woman so perfect for him as Elaine had been, Cogsworth was utterly incapable of love.

With a trembling hand Cogsworth reached once more into the wooden box and this time withdrew the golden ring on its chain. He admired the beautifully carved pink gem with sad eyes before hanging it around his neck. With these sad thoughts flooding his mind, Cogsworth drifted into an uneasy sleep.