TEN
Lighting himself and hopping through the gate Lumiere at once attracted the attention of the girl who gasped and stepped back in alarm.
"Mademoiselle," he said with a sweeping bow.
"He's mad," said the Sauce Pan as he and the others peaked out from behind and under la Chaise.
Cogsworth slapped his forehead. "No, he's Lumiere," he grumbled. "Though at times there isn't much of a difference."
After a wince to Cogsworth the Sauce Pan returned his attention to the scene on hand.
"Don't be afraid, ma cherie," said Lumiere to Monique in his usual bright manner. "This has all been a most unfortunate misunderstanding."
"Oh," moaned Cogsworth. "As long as she's seen Lumiere we might as well have Monsieur la Chaise bring her back, if at all possible."
"Must I?" murmured la Chaise.
Cogsworth did not hear; eyes remained fixed on Monique and Lumiere. He tried to push himself forward to relate this simple plan to Monique himself, but he could not. Though he wanted to help Monique and get her out of this cursed place as soon as possible, he remained rooted to his spot unable to show himself. Lumiere breaking the ice first did nothing to encourage him to come out as well to be seen as he was now, not even an animal but an animate inanimate object.
He bit his lip, and tried once more to move forward. A few steps toward the gate and he stopped just at the opening and stared again at the bubble of candlelight surrounding Monique and Lumiere.
The poor girl unsure what to do dropped onto her knees, her eyes wide with a sort of daze for all the strange happenings, but as Lumiere tried to coax her, she suddenly came to and said in a whisper like one speaking to a ghost, "Your voice!"
Lumiere suddenly stopped speaking.
"Y—you sound just like the porter here when we—"
As the girl's realization came through like a jolt through a nightmare, the Master's roar eclipsed all like the boom of thunder just as lightning strikes directly overhead. The storm was soon to follow as everyone froze, chilled as ice upon the emergence of the master of the castle.
"The Master …" whispered someone from behind.
Cogsworth and the other objects outside the gate shuddered, and Lumiere stood on the walk with mouth slightly ajar in rigid dismay.
"YOU!" snarled the Master.
Monique jumped to her feet and saw him in all his monstrous horror with teeth barred and eyes icy lamps of blue flame blazing like fiery arrows released from their quivers. His back and shoulders arched like a bear ready to kill for its territory, and his hands stiff and only half clenched like the hands of a madman of gorilla build. And with head bowed in uncontrollable fury his horns seemed poised for the charge of a wild bull at a Spanish bullfight.
"Out of everyone it had to be you!" snarled the Master.
Breathing queerly, Monique stood in stupefied silence before this hideous creature who too sounded familiar, despite the added lion growl in the back of his throat. She stared with eyes wide and teeth clenched together.
That most terrified stare from that pretty face caused the Master's rage to build to even more monstrous proportions, but he simply stood as well; though in a manner that looked ready to pounce at any second.
"Prince … Adam …?" cracked the weakened voice of Monique at last.
Muscles tensed, and the growl in the back of his throat wound his rage like a spring.
"Master, no!" Lumiere cried.
"Wait!" begged Cogsworth instantly awoken from his own stupor by Lumiere.
Whether by the shouts of his servant or not, the Master merely let out another roar as he stomped forward toward the girl, but he did her no physical harm.
"I HATE YOU!"
It was at this time that everything seemed to come together in some fashion in the terrified mind of Monique, and she could stand no more. With eyes rolling to the back of her head she collapsed before the Master's feet in complete exhaustion fainted.
Silence. A dead and miserable silence.
Mrs. Potts had come now and peeked through a crack in the front doors with Chip peeking fearfully from behind, but otherwise no one else moved. Seeing the fainted girl on the ground, Mrs. Potts lowered her head to the floor and closed her eyes in sorrow.
"Why is she here?" hissed the Master in a voice near inaudible.
No one could answer.
"Well?" pressed the Master, still at a somewhat subdued volume; though his glare penetrated from Lumiere to the servants at the gate with a strong passion even still. His eyes narrowed suspiciously upon Monsieur la Chaise.
Lumiere cleared his throat, interrupting the Master's train of thought upon the matter of the one-man carriage. As the Master turned roughly back into his direction Lumiere backed up a hop.
"Master," he said then with a bow and some hesitance. "Might I suggest that we decide what to do with Mademoiselle Monique first?"
The Master growled in the back of his throat, but he did not say anything against such a novel suggestion.
"We can't just leave her here on the ground, after all," said Lumiere.
A leer was his only answer.
"Of course not," said Mrs. Potts practically as she bounced outside. "The poor girl."
Lumiere suggested, "Maybe we should bring her inside, and—
"No! Absolutely not!" gasped Cogsworth. "It's far too late for that, Lumiere!"
"But she knows who we are," said Lumiere, "and she has a good heart."
"She's been practically molested in this experience! It will never work!" Cogsworth retorted.
Approaching the girl now himself, he looked down upon her human form with both pity and longing.
If only Lumiere had been right and Monique had been the girl to break the spell. It seemed centuries since he last saw a human face, and he felt a strange emptiness at not breathing as she was now. He heard the cold sound of the swaying pendulum inside him rather than the beating of his human heart, and he felt just a tinge of envy for her to have remained human, whereas he and the rest of the castle …
"We should return her at once," said Cogsworth then turning sharply away with a haughty air.
"Return her?" demanded the Master then; he had previously been staring at Monique without a word.
Cogsworth jumped and spun around to look up at the Master.
"Uh, eh—retur—what I—oh …"
He winced.
"It was Monsieur de l'Écriture!" exclaimed the Sauce Pan. "It was his idea!"
Many of the others agreed, and the Pen looked as if he would faint as well as he looked up at the blazing eyes of the Master.
"E-e-enough!" snapped the Master. "Why did you bring her here?!"
"Please, Master, let's just return her," Cogsworth begged. "She could wake at any moment."
"Yes, it will only make it worse if she wakes, please, Master," agreed Mrs. Potts.
The Master ignored them and prowled on all fours toward the Pen.
"Master …" cracked M. de l'Écriture. "Master, I beg of you …"
But the Master walked passed him and straight for the carriage instead. As he stopped he held up a great paw in fury against the carriage. Everyone covered their eyes, but all he did was roughly open the door.
"Take her," he grumbled.
"Oh …" sighed the Pen.
Las Chaise let loose a shudder.
Moving back to Monique, the Master picked her up careful that she would not wake up, and prowled past the gate and the servants who bowed their heads with remorse as their master put Monique into the carriage. He then slammed the door and ordered the carriage to take her away. Then he left himself to go inside the castle. More servants watching from the windows dashed away as he stepped through the doorway. The front door he slammed behind him too and the foundations shook around it.
"Maman …?" asked Chip who had sneaked out to his mother's side during a calmer part of the activities.
"Yes, love?" asked Mrs. Potts.
"I thought we wanted a girl to come," Chip said. "Why are we sending her away?"
Mrs. Potts kissed him softly but gave no answer. What could be said?
#
Cogsworth sighed as Lumiere for the second time that evening sang "Les Feuilles Mortes" as sung by Yves Montand. He did not know what was worse, Lumiere overly hopeful or Lumiere sad. He had to say that he missed him being happy even though he had no doubt that Lumiere would be more himself within the next few days.
"Oh," Cogsworth moaned again louder this time and with a shudder, "must you? It's making it all worse, and Alphonse's violin playing along with it isn't helping either. It's just overly emotional misery. It's unneeded. If they miss loving each other then they might as well love each other again and be done with it. It's absurd. They both just lacked commitment as far as I can see. Neither one died, after all."
"Nor has any of us here and now," murmured Lumiere, trance-like as though his words were part of the song. "Only love has died. That is the tragedy of it."
"What love?" Cogsworth demanded. "There was no love to begin with. This whole thing is stupid. Alphonse! Stop, please. Just stop!"
Alphonse obeyed. The violin playing ceased.
"You really don't like music, do you," remarked Lumiere with some annoyance.
"I like music plenty," Cogsworth retorted. "Airs de cour is one of my favorite styles of music. I also like the works of Rameau. Lully. Couperin — both! The German operas are also quite to my liking. And I would by far prefer to hear such music again over what I must suffer through for music since we've been shut out of society. Why couldn't someone have turned into a harpsichord?" He sighed. "Never mind."
Lumiere smiled for the first time since Monique had arrived at the castle.
"Alphonse, why don't you play something intensely Baroque for our poor major domo," teased Lumiere, his smile turning into a wry grin.
"No, thank you …" muttered Cogsworth. "I'm not in the mood."
"There's still time left," said Lumiere as Alphonse began to play something of Germany's latest and finest as of last Christmas nonetheless.
"Not according to your song, there isn't," said Cogsworth. "Not one moment more."
"Pff, that's just a little release of stress," said Lumiere. "I still firmly believe we'll get out of this someday."
Cogsworth looked away. "I wish I thought so." A short pause of remorse went through him, but after a moment he returned to his companion and said in a far stronger tone, "But after thinking long and hard about it, Lumiere, I have determined that from this day forth I will not dwell upon the past that we cannot have back. Nor long for a future and get my hopes up for something that may, and it is most probable, never be.
At this last phrase, Lumiere frowned but said nothing for the moment.
"If I must spend the rest of my days, however long they may be, as a clock," said Cogsworth allowing the time to read upon his face for a second or two. "Then so be it. There are far worse things to be, I suppose, like a maggot or a crumb or a criminal condemned to a lifetime of solitary confinement and torture whether human or not."
"Agreed," said the not often heard voice of Alphonse.
And if at the last moment we shall be spared an eternity of being cursed, then I shall be pleasantly surprised and happy, but not a second before, Cogsworth added to himself.
It was not long after this resolution that a Mop appeared to say that someone new had come their way outside.
"It must be people from the house of Count Vespasien," said Lumiere as the trio exchanged glances (though Alphonse did not have much of a glance to exchange).
The Mop said that he thought this as well.
Thus the trio, the Mop, and a few others among them including Mrs. Potts, Chip, and Babette, quickly left for the front windows to peek outside. They saw at once men examining the grounds. They did not seem like many, but perhaps four or five in all unless there were others on the other side of the castle already.
"It looks as if they came to investigate what Count St. Gervais' daughter must have said when they found her," said a Picture Frame with a simple painting of a child holding flowers behind glass inside her.
"Then we must make sure they see nothing," said Lumiere.
"Indeed," said Cogsworth, and turning to Lumiere he said, "Turn out your light."
Before Lumiere could do so himself others quickly blew him out, but he did not to relight himself.
"We should lock the doors," said a Mixing Bowl.
Cogsworth nodded. "Alphonse," he said. "Take some others with you to make certain every door is locked tight."
In a sweeping motion, Alphonse took his leave.
"What about the Master?" asked Lumiere then.
"Someone should tell him," said Mrs. Potts.
With a deep breath Cogsworth spoke up with some self-importance even if his intent was meant well, "I shall go to tell him." He knew Mrs. Potts would have offered if he had not, and he felt a sense of duty about this, especially since he felt he had failed in regard to the kidnapping of Monique.
In a way he had hoped that someone would dissuade him in his decision, but as no one replied to him at all, he cleared his throat and marched with a lofty air toward the West Wing.
"Mrs. Potts, please take care of things while I'm away," he ordered before he disappeared around the corridor corner.
Although he was quite small, he did not feel the diminished height much anymore except when going to the West Wing. Besides the fact that that staircase had been the very location of his enchantment, no one liked much to have to go up into the Master's bedchambers. To inform the Master of something that would make him unhappier than he already was in his place of brooding was something near unbearable, and there was a certain dark aura about the West Wing more than any other area of castle, as if this spot had been cursed far deeper than the rest of it.
Nevertheless, forcing himself not to think about it hard, Cogsworth made his way up the stairs with far greater ease and speed than he would have dreamed upon his first being his curse. At the top of the stairs, he slowed down somewhat and wrung his hands together fumblingly. With a pair of shuddering shoulders, he came up to the door, which was actually opened a crack, at which he jumped back in surprise.
The Master was not there, however, at least not just behind the door.
Fumbling again, Cogsworth closed his eyes and let out the tiniest moan. No one was around in the hallway, but the Master was inside. He could hear a slight growl from on the other side of the door, and as Cogsworth opened his eyes and peered through the crack, he pushed the door open a bit to see the Master's back facing him far on the other side of the chamber, and silhouetted in the late afternoon light from the balcony window.
"What do you want?" the Master demanded.
"I …" Cogsworth started. Then clearing his throat he strengthened his voice and stepped into the chamber with bow. "Master, I just thought it best to inform you that there are … uh, people outside, sir."
It would be far better to tell him about it than to let him find out on his own, or so Cogsworth had thought until the Master said darkly in return, "I know."
"Ah!" said Cogsworth. "Well, it's — uh, good to let them look and then to leave."
The Master snorted. "If they stay outside … and don't stay too long."
"We have locked the doors, but I think they're only looking for the sake of Mademoiselle Monique," said Cogsworth.
"I know why they're here," snarled the Master. "Do you think I would let them trespass if I didn't?!"
"No!" gasped Cogsworth perhaps a little too quickly.
"I don't want them to recognize me too," he growled low under his breath.
There was silence for a few moments then, and Cogsworth thought that perhaps another reason why the Master had done nothing against who would otherwise be known as intruders was that he really did not feel in the mood for that, and preferred to be left to sulk. And what a place to sulk, Cogsworth could not help but observe, as he glanced around at the state of the chamber: ruined bed, slashed painting, crashed items all about. Alone in the chamber stood only a small table upon which floated the rose with its ethereal glow beneath its glass case, and the mirror lay beside it.
"I'm sure they won't stay long," said Cogsworth calmly now after a moment or two as he reverted his vision back to the Master.
Hopefully the party outside had already left.
The Master did not answer. He still hardly looked at the butler.
"Yes … well … I suppose I shall leave you then," said Cogsworth with another and far more appropriate bow.
As he turned to leave however, the Master turned after him and asked with some hesitance, "Do you think it would have worked?"
"Would what have worked, sir?" asked Cogsworth, turning back again with hands behind his back after his old manner of primness.
"Monique," said the Master sadly.
"Well, I …" Cogsworth returned him with a slow shake of his head. "I don't know." After a short pause he looked up at the Master and added, "I wish I did, Master."
He said this not out of fear for the Master, but he meant it in sincerest love for the Master in the best way a servant can. It must be said that it stirred that affection to hear that the Master wanted to hear his advice. Whether or not he respected Cogsworth he certainly trusted him. To hear it from the Master's own mouth that he required Cogsworth's opinion on such a delicate matter made him truly sorry he did not have much advice to offer, nor much consolation, and this hurt most of all.
He could have, like Lumiere, say that there was still time or that surely the curse would break one day if they tried their hardest to make themselves open to a girl's arrival, but Cogsworth had just promised himself not to think of the future, and the Master had not asked about it. However the past, Cogsworth had not meant to dwell on either, but he could think of very little to say about the present that would make things any better for the Master.
The Master himself had by now turned away from Cogsworth again and returned to the window with a growl.
The whinny of horses sounded faintly from outside, and it seemed that the men who had come to investigate matters had decided it best to leave; though Cogsworth could not see this for himself. He hoped now they could tell Monique that her kidnappers had changed their minds about kidnapping her and that during the trauma of the experience she had fallen asleep or fainted with mental exertion and dreamed everything she had seen at the castle.
"If …" Cogsworth started again as something to say at last came to his mind, "if ever you need anything, anything all, um … I'm ever here."
"What's left of you," the Master grumbled.
Cogsworth could not help his heavy-browed scowl at this.
"Oh …" he moaned rubbing his temple. "Well, there is enough of me, Master, I assure you," he tried once more, "to serve you in faithfulness."
"I know," murmured the Master, and this was the closest thing anyone could ever expect to receive of his gratitude, but Cogsworth really wanted some resilience rather than thanks. He was his servant, after all. It was his duty to serve him.
However, Cogsworth resigned himself to the fact that he would receive nothing better as a response, and thus with a last bow of his head (though the Master did not look to see it), he withdrew from the chamber.
