Chapter Three: Hours Before

Arriving at his bedroom door, Cogsworth reached for the knob, but could not find it in himself to grasp it. Would he really find his lifeless body behind it? He tried to remember sitting up in bed, rolling back the sheets, and pushing himself off the mattress, but in his panic, he could not for the life of him recall! Or should it be "the death of him" now?

Stop it! he chastised. We have yet to reach a conclusion on this matter, and as head of the household, we must first see for ourselves if there is a problem that needs our attention.

Tightening his resolve, he grabbed the knob and turned it before he could convince himself out of it.

Light shined through the windows, their curtains having been pulled back by him that morning. And on the bed was—

Cogsworth felt his torso practically deflate.

Nothing.

Oh good, he thought with a bit of a smile, however brief. But this does not explain everything.

He went down the list of symptoms again: No one could hear him, no one could see him, no one could touch him and vice versa… and he was not dead. With all logical explanations tried, this could only be the result of…

Cogsworth groaned. "Magic," he muttered like a curse.

He looked about the room for any sign of an enchantress. "What, no warning, no test, Miss Sorceress?" he called facetiously, but was becoming more panicked by the minute. "Will I remain invisible and inaudible for a number of irretrievable years? I don't see a rose anywhere, do you?!"

The room did not deign to reply to his interrogations. Feeling his heart race from his exertions, he sat down on the end of the bed.

Perfect, just perfect, he bitterly mumbled in his mind as he rubbed his eyes. Impeccable timing! Now how was anything supposed to get done?

After the insistent attempts to help get everything in order for the ball that night, the household's staff had banished the Prince and his wife to their library, much to Belle's chagrin, who was finding it hard to adjust to remaining idle with company on the way. However, the servants were even more insistent that the couple relax and enjoy themselves before the onslaught of nobility arrived at their double doors.

Soon after, they were invested in a book they were reading together by the fireplace, so much that Belle and Adam hardly noticed the library doors opening. It was the sound of approaching footsteps that caused them to look up. Seeing Mrs. Potts with a worried expression on her aging features, they immediately stood and met her halfway.

"Is something wrong?" Belle inquired with concern.

"Have either of you seen Cogsworth?" Mrs. Potts asked eagerly.

The Prince and Belle exchanged glances as the answer dawned on them. "You haven't seen him either?" Adam replied with surprise.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Potts murmured. "I was so hoping you had at least come across him."

"When did you see him last?" Belle questioned.

"I haven't seen him since last night," the housekeeper answered. Thankfully, the couple was too distracted to notice a bit of blush come to her cheeks.

Adam furrowed his brow as Belle prompted, "Who else have you asked?"

"Anyone I came across!" Mrs. Potts looked off as she named them. "Angélique, Babette, Veronique, Florent, your father, Fife—"

"What about Lumière?" Adam suggested.

"He's been cooped up in the kitchens. I was trying not to interrupt their preparations," she explained.

"I think we might have to," the young Prince conceded.

The three of them hurried to the kitchen, hoping Cogsworth would wander by them before they got there, but they had no such luck.

The sounds of dishes, utensils, pots, and pans tinkling together came from behind the kitchen doors. Adam swung one open.

"Lumière!"

The maître d' seemed to come out of a focus as he found the Prince by the entrance. He raised a questioning eyebrow as Adam waved a hand for him to come over. Lumière had to dodge through the throng of chefs before he could make it to them.

His eyes were full of confusion as he swept them over the trio gathered. "I do not wish to be impertinent, Master, but this is not a very convenient time."

"I know," Adam agreed. "And we're sorry to have to pull you from the kitchen, but we need to ask: Have you seen Cogsworth today?"

Lumière's eyes widened at question. "Non, not at all. I thought he has been in his study this entire time."

"He wasn't even there this morning when I brought up his breakfast," Mrs. Potts clarified, her concern only growing at Lumière's response.

"That is very strange," the maître d' commented with a shake of his head. "If I know anything about him, it is that he is the closest to a creature of habit as anyone I have met."

"My thoughts exactly!" Mrs. Potts agreed wholeheartedly. "He has started his day going over papers in his study every morning without fail for over twenty years."

"Even for some time during the curse," Lumière had to add.

"It just makes me think something's happened." Mrs. Potts brought her hand to her mouth, as her eyes began to shine. Belle put an arm around her in an attempt at comfort.

Lumière sighed. "I am not sure if this is of any use, but… he did seem upset over something that happened yesterday. It may have been about the ball, but I believe it might have been about something else." He shrugged helplessly. "He did not say what, however."

"Do you think he could have… left the castle because he was upset?" Belle wondered. "Even just to town?"

"I cannot imagine that he would," Lumière replied honestly. "Normally he would wallow in his room or study until he felt better, and he is not one to drown his sorrows at the nearest watering hole."

"Even though it's unlikely, maybe it's where we can start," Adam determined. "We can send a messenger out there to ask if anyone's seen him." He breathed out through his nose, pursing his lips. "I wish we could go ourselves."

"You must stay here," Lumière emphasized while Mrs. Potts nodded. "Let us take care of the search."

"Speaking of which, you two should start getting ready," the housekeeper reminded, having successfully composed herself. "I'll make sure someone goes out to town as soon as they can."

"Thank you," Belle said, though she was wishing the same as her husband. "Let us know of anything you find."

"Of course," Mrs. Potts assured with a nod.

Adam appeared unsatisfied, but Belle gently took his hand for him to follow.

After they had gone, Lumière glanced worriedly at Mrs. Potts. "This is very unlike him."

"That is what has me concerned. I can hardly believe he ran off without saying a word!"

Lumière hesitated, wanting to actively help in finding his friend, but resigned, "I should get back to work." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Cogsworth will turn up. He only has so much capacity for surprises."

Mrs. Potts smiled gratefully. "I certainly hope you're right."

Though he was useless in his current invisible state, Cogsworth could not keep himself in his quarters while the ball went on without him. He had to make sure things went well, even if he wouldn't be able to fix anything that happened to go awry.

Don't think about that, he warned himself. This is not the time to think worst case scenario. He took a deep breath, the only way of calming himself down until normalcy returned.

He checked the guest rooms in the East Wing, which were being occupied for the night. A few maids were just finishing up their cleaning and putting fresh sheets in them. He found nothing to really complain about there, so he continued on.

Walking through the dining room again, the decorations had been tweaked, but improved. The candles and holly along the dining table runner were so artfully placed, it was a pleasure to continue looking at it. From Angélique's hand, most likely, Cogsworth noted. I must certainly give her my praise at the earliest opportunity.

The chorus of silver and copperware greeted his ears upon passing by the kitchen doors, and he came to a halt. What if he tried moving objects while others were around? He had been able to write all of those replies with his quill that morning like he hadn't been the wiser. Was that ability in fact conditional? If it wasn't, this could solve his dilemma in communication.

Cogsworth had to give it a shot. He brought himself right before the doors as though prepping himself for a run. He was going to walk through those doors like he would any other day.

With another deep, lung-filling breath to prepare, he held out a hand and strode through the swinging doors.

That is, the literal meaning of the word, "through".

Of course, Cogsworth thought sourly as the chefs walked by him without even a flicker of a glance. I knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. How dare I assume a witch doesn't consider loopholes.

Before he left, he observed the kitchen staff for a moment with Lumière orchestrating the kitchen with all the efficiency that he had come to expect from him. Cogsworth could trust no issues to arise from there, but he couldn't have Lumière believing that; he had enough of an ego already.

He turned and tried to walk through the door again out of habit, but only waltzed straight through the wood.

I will probably never become accustomed to that… Hopefully, I won't have to.

Since he had not seen the ballroom in a few hours, Cogsworth went to have another look, but only found it as sublime as before.

He evaluated the gardens, which were being lit up by the gardeners as they went from lantern to lantern. It was a very stunning view from the back doors.

Perhaps the foyer needs to be examined.

The grand foyer was spotless and glistening, with carpet flowing directly to the ballroom, and the parlor room off of it was made into a makeshift coatroom with racks lining the walls and center of the floor.

What else was there? Cogsworth stepped back into the foyer as he considered his mental list. Since he was always restless before an event like this, he went to check the guest rooms again to make sure they were finished.

As he double- and triple-checked the various areas of the château for cleanliness, appearance, and organization, he found he was becoming impressed by his staff. This all had been correctly done without his meticulous supervision and consistent reminders of expectations. They must have remembered his critiques from all those years ago.

Well, I would like to presume they would have, Cogsworth had to comment. Repetition is the key to memorization. Still, that showed a level of caring and pride in their work that he must have had a hand in instilling, and he couldn't help but be touched.

To be completely impartial, there are some minor details I would have recommended be fixed, but… overall, it is a job well-done, and one to take pride in.

However, it did make him wonder: Was all of his micromanaging really as necessary as he had thought? Perhaps he could ease up just a bit, such as correcting tasks and methods when or soon after they occur instead of correcting the mistakes he only predicted.

After letting the idea broil for a minute or two, Cogsworth decided it was a positive change. It might even be better for his health, too.

As of now, let us hope it can still make a considerable difference.

Not only that, but it made him think that maybe he had done his job, teaching them all how to properly carry out their duties while putting their hearts into them. Could he truly and seriously consider his retirement? Maybe he didn't have to find a replacement after all.

Cogsworth had expected to feel relieved and happy coming to that conclusion, but the thought was, in reality, quite depressing. It made him feel like he was not even needed.

No. No. No. I know for a fact that I have been vital to this household's longevity, he argued.

If he left, was he even going to be missed?

What preposterous thoughts are these?! Cogsworth shook his head almost in an attempt to chase the poisonous thoughts away. I have nothing to consider but the ball. Whether or not I can retire and everyone's feelings on that matter are completely irrelevant.

He convinced himself of this, but the nagging sense of something significant coming to an end stayed with him.