Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast (Steampunk Fairy Tales) Read online

  As I glided down the halls, I checked each chamber. Room after room appeared to be empty, dusty, even. None of the bed chambers had been used in years. Climbing the steps to the third floor of the castle, I paused when I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway. I heard two male voices. Their cadence had that same metallic pitch as the maid. Was the lord a tinker? Had he fashioned these creations himself or purchased them with his obvious riches? If he was in the trade, perhaps he would know Papa. Maybe he was one of the members of the Rude Mechanicals, an elite society of tinkers in the realm. That would explain why he had such advanced mechs. We common tinkers had just begun to make some breakthroughs with automatons that are more sophisticated. But the maid had been truly extraordinary. Who had designed her?

  The voices drew near.

  I blew out the candle, set the candelabra aside, and slipped into a window alcove. The window was hung with a heavy green velvet drape that let in no light whatsoever. I hid in the darkness only peeking out from my hiding spot to watch as the two mechanical men made their way down the hall. Like the maid, they were dressed in servants’ attire, although they both had the look more of Cavaliers than modern gentlemen. I waited as the footsteps retreated.

  The dusty curtains made my nose burn. I stifled a cough. Turning, I took the quickest of glances out the window then paused.

  My eyes narrowed as I focused in on the flowers, the topiaries, the trees.

  Outside, the sunlight shimmered blindingly on the garden.

  Too blindingly.

  And then, I understood why.

  Turning, I rushed down the hallway to the stairs.

  Grabbing the skirts of my dressing gown and robe, I ran down the steps. It wasn’t until I reached the bottom steps that I realized how much my quick movements taxed me. I felt winded and woozy.

  I heard heavy footsteps heading in my direction.

  I flung open the front door and rushed out into the perfectly manicured garden. I raced along the prim garden path, past the distinctly box-shaped shrubs to the center of the garden. Turning around as I looked, I stared in disbelief at the beautiful rose arbors, the blooming dogwood trees, the bunches of wisteria, the twisting ivy, and the clipped topiaries in the shapes of swans and cupids. It was garden of refined taste. It was perfect in every way, each beautiful tree and blossom conforming to it training.

  And every lovely bloom was arrested perfectly in place.

  The entire garden was made of metal.

  Chapter 10: Bittersweet Reunions

  “Mistress, what are you doing out here? Mistress, you must go back to your room at once,” a male voice called.

  I looked back toward the castle. One of the male servants, also made of clockwork, was ambling toward me. One of his two eyes, a yellow optic, had burnt out. His left leg moved with a screeching sound, not bending with fluidity. His hair, like the maid’s, was arrested in silver. But his locks were long in the style favored in King Charles’ day, as was his clothing. Didn’t the lord of the house have the sense to redress his automatons? Perhaps the creations were merely that old.

  “I... What is all this?” I asked the servant, waving toward the garden.

  “The gardens. Now, if you please,” the mechanical said, motioning back toward the house.

  “Isabelle?” a distant voice called. I just barely heard my name on the wind. “Isabelle!”

  My heart stopped beating.

  I recognized the voice.

  “Papa,” I whispered. I scanned the castle. There, at the very top of the castle, I saw movement in a window of one of the castle turrets. Papa was there.

  “Papa,” I yelled, waving.

  I rushed past the automaton and back into the castle.

  “Mistress! Mistress, wait,” the mechanical called, but I ignored him.

  I flung open the door to the castle and headed for the stairs.

  “Mistress, where are you going? Mistress, wait,” the maid called, but her voice box failed at the last words, the sound coming out garbled.

  Ignoring the mechanicals, I raced up the steps.

  “Papa,” I yelled. “Papa, where are you?”

  “Isabelle? Isabelle, I’m here.”

  I raced down a long hallway and up a short, winding flight of steps until I reached the door to the turret near the top of the castle.

  “Papa?” I called, banging on the door. “Papa, are you there?”

  “Isabelle? Oh, my sweet Isabelle. Thank God you are alive. I’m here,” my father called.

  Grabbing the door handle, I gave it a tug, but the door didn’t open.

  “It’s locked, Isabelle.”

  “Locked? Why?”

  “Because I locked it,” a voice answered from further up the stairs. The voice was so dark and menacing that my heart skipped a beat.

  “Papa,” I whispered in a breath.

  “Isabelle, it’s all right. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Why should she be afraid, old man? There’s nothing monstrous here, except the monsters.”

  Heavy footsteps tromped slowly down the stairs toward me. I pressed myself against the door. My heart beat hard, the sound of it ringing in my ears. My breath quick, I felt woozy, and my stomach flopped, the tea and toast sloshing around. I felt like I was going to be sick.

  The owner of the voice finally rounded the corner of the stairwell. First, I saw his heavy metal boots. He wore long, black hose, the cloth faded to an odd gray. My eyes drifted up. In addition to the hose, he had on a pale blue coat with a long cravat. He had long hair, a square jaw, and a royal nose. His features were that of an aristocrat. But they were made entirely of metal.

  He glared at me, his silver optics shining brightly through the narrowed metal eyelids. The optics turning, he regarded me carefully. He sneered then grabbed me by the wrist. Using a key attached to the tip of his finger, he unlocked the door.

  Papa, who must have been standing close by, stepped back.

  The mechanical pushed me into the room, entering behind me, then slammed the door closed behind us.

  Holding my aching wrist, I rushed to Papa.

  “Isabelle,” Papa said, pulling me close to him.

  The menacing mechanical glared at us. “Now, what am I supposed to do with the two of you?”

  Chapter 11: The Lord and the Airship

  I looked from the automaton to the workshop behind me. To my surprise, suspended aloft, was a tiny, one-person airship. The ship was not much larger or more advanced than a hot air balloon and nothing like the massive airships that flew in and out of the towers in London. The balloon had been painted periwinkle blue, though the color was much-faded. A large red rose was painted on the side. Below the balloon hung a burner and a small gondola. I scanned the workroom. Tools were strewn everywhere. The place was, in fact, a hangar.

  “Monster, my daughter is alive, and you didn’t tell me?” Papa snapped at the mech.

  I was shocked. I had never seen my father speak to anyone in anger. I then eyed Papa over. He was wearing a leather apron and had grease smeared across his face. Had he been working on the airship?

  The mechanical laughed, his voice sounding tinny and hollow. “As if I am concerned with some peasant who washed up on my shore. And you, a thief, deserve nothing.”

  “Thief?” I asked. My father had never stolen anything in his life.

  “The garden,” Papa said. “You saw. The roses are all metal, all clockwork. One seemed to call to me. Foolish, I know. I picked it, thinking you would want to study its design. The castle seemed abandoned. No one was around. I figured there was no harm. But I was very wrong. I was locked in this room, made a prisoner because of a metal rose.”

  “No harm?” the lord said with a laugh. “You know nothing about harm. How dare you presume to pick my rose,” the lord said with a snort. “A rose by any other name would still spell damnation for us all. Now, is your infernal device prepared? You and your daughter will board the ship and leave on it at once.”

  “You must be jok
ing. This aircraft was designed to hold one person. It won’t even lift with two aboard. As it is, the craft is an antique. If it flies at all, there is no guaranteeing how far it will go,” Papa replied.

  “Antique?” the lord said hotly. From within his metal body, I heard something click and whirl. The levers around the automaton’s mouth moved his lips into the expression of a sneer. Once more, his eyes narrowed. “Then I guess one of you will just have to stay. You’re both tinkers, I presume? My servants suggested as much. Fine. One of you will go, one of you will stay. My servants need repairs anyway.”

  “Stay? No,” Papa said. “There must be another way. A ship? A rowboat? Does no one come here? This is a mad place, and you—a machine—may not lord over me or any living man.”

  At that, the automaton stepped menacingly toward my father.

  Gasping, I stepped between them.

  The lord eyed me skeptically then eased back.

  “Mad? Indeed. This place is mad, as you would be in my place. No one comes here. Ever. And there is no other way off this island. Now, get your balloon ready, and send your daughter away from here, old man,” he turned, his gears clicking as he looked at me. Once more, I saw his optics focus. He eyed me over, looking down at my chest.

  In a fit of modesty, I clutched my dressing gown. But I quickly realized it wasn’t me he was looking at it was the windup keys.

  “Where did you get those?” he snapped, reaching out for the keys.

  I clutched my hand around them. “They’re mine. They are the keys to my creations.”

  “Your creations? What creations?”

  “Music boxes. Nothing more. They’re at the bottom of the sea. Go have a look.”

  The mechanical looked from the keys back to my face. His eyes narrowed once more then he turned and stomped to the door. “I will give you a moment to say goodbye. Prepare that ship. One of the two of you will be getting on. Decide. Now,” he said then slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter 12: Farewell

  “Papa,” I whispered, looking up at my father.

  My father planted kisses on my forehead and cheeks. “Isabelle, are you all right? What happened to you? Where have you been?”

  “I was injured in the shipwreck, a blow to the head. I found my way here but fainted. I have been asleep in a chamber below. I had no idea you were here. And you? How did you find this place?”

  “Quite by chance, I stumbled upon the castle after I floated to shore on a barrel. I found a path leading here. I hoped to get help, a search party—men, horses, dogs—to find you and the others. But when I picked the rose, the lord—or so he fashions himself—appeared and called me a thief. I fear what he might have done if I hadn’t I explained I was a tinker and that I was only curious. He brought me here. I’ve been locked in the workshop ever since. He’s been very anxious to be rid of me.”

  I chuckled lightly, trying to ease Papa. “Certainly no rescue party to be had at this castle.”

  “The lord does have a dog.”

  “Is it...”

  Papa nodded.

  “I don’t understand. How did such advanced mechanicals come to be here? From their clothing, they date back a century or more.”

  “Look,” Papa said, motioning to the room behind him. “This workshop is quite advanced, but the tools are all very old. The airship is one of the first ever built. This particular ship was designed by Archibald Boatswain himself,” he said, referring to the master tinker who’d invented the first airships and Tinker’s Tower, which had been a gift from the London Tinkers Society to Queen Anne.

  I stared up at the airship. Such machines had taken my mother from me and changed the course of my father’s life. Would we never be rid of them? My voice trembling, I said, “Papa, you must be the one to go. Fly the ship to the mainland then come back and get me. You will be able to better note the landscape as you go and rediscover the island. And you know these machines. I do not.”

  “Isabelle, I cannot possibly leave you here with this monstrous creature. He’s no man. He’s all machine, and I fear his ethics circuitry is incomplete or damaged. He truly thinks he is the lord of this castle. The other mechs treat him as such, and he is as haughty as any blueblood I’ve ever met. He cannot be trusted. We must find another way off the island.”

  “I have seen none. Have you?”

  Papa shook his head.

  “We cannot take the airship together?” I asked.

  Papa stiffened. “I would not risk you in an airship, Isabelle. You know that. And this ship will not hold us both.”

  “No chance at all, the risk aside?”

  Papa waved for me to follow him. We climbed the ladder to the platform outside the airship. The workshop had a very high ceiling, and as I looked upward, I saw that the roof was connected to a series of levers which opened it. The balloon burner on the airship had already been lit. I frowned. Early ships such as these were unwieldy to steer and easily tossed about by the wind. Only a steady, practiced hand could fly one. And flying one over the sea where the winds were more likely to pitch a person about was even riskier. Papa had to go. He had to. If one of us could escape, he had the better chance of navigating the ship and finding me once more.

  “Look,” Papa said, motioning to the small, slender gondola. As I looked inside, I understood. The gears, levers, all of the cockpit had been designed to hold one person only. The airship could not carry two.

  “I cannot drive it. Please, Papa. Please. Return to England then come for me,” I said, feeling tears prick the corners of my eyes.

  My father stood staring at the ship.

  “Isabelle, you know I swore I would never—”

  The door to the chamber opened once more. The lord went to the side of the room where he activated a lever. A pulley on the wall shifted, and slowly, the roof above the turret opened.

  A soft spring breeze wafted in from outside. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind and sunlight on my cheeks.

  “Isabelle,” my father said, his voice filled with anguish.

  I turned and looked at him. “I have faith in you, Papa. I know you are frightened, but you can do this. Do this to save us both. Go. I know you will find me again,” I said then leaned in and whispered, “Advanced or not, these mechs are very old, and my hands are very nibble. It will take almost nothing to deactivate them. If things become uncomfortable, I will simply turn them off.”

  My father exhaled in relief then nodded.

  “Have you decided?” the lord called.

  “I shall go,” Papa said.

  “Then go. And do not seek to return to this place.”

  Papa gave me a knowing glance then pulled me into an embrace.

  “I love you, Papa,” I whispered.

  “I love you too. Be careful. Be safe.”

  I nodded, kissing my father on the cheek once more, then stepped back.

  Reluctantly, my father climbed into the cockpit.

  I climbed back down the ladder. Unlocking the brakes on the wooden platform, I rolled it away while the lord unlocked the clamps holding the airship in place.

  “Isabelle?”

  “Papa! I love you, Papa. Be safe.”

  When the lord released the last clamp, the airship began to rise.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I watched as the airship lifted away from the tower, up and out of sight, taking Papa along with it. Tears threatened, but I fought them back. I would not let this beastly creature see me cry, not that it understood emotion anyway.

  The mech activated the lever once more, closing the roof of the turret again.

  “You’re very brave to stay in your father’s place,” the lord said.

  “Brave? He is my father. Of course I would suffer in his place.”

  The lord stiffened and stood in a formal, rigid posture. “Suffer?” he said with a sniff. “Oh no. You will not suffer at my hands. You might be a simple tinker, not a lady, but you are my guest here. Now, my servants tell me you are unwell. Is that so? You
should return to your room and rest.”

  “Oh. Aren’t you grand telling me to rest after everything you’ve done,” I said then turned to leave.

  The mech stepped in front of the door, blocking my path. He eyed me carefully, optics turning, metallic eyelids narrowing. He looked at my hand where I held my wrist against my chest.

  I had hidden the bruise from Papa, but when the metallic monster had grabbed me, pushing me into the room, his grip had been tight. My wrist ached and was turning purple.

  “What’s wrong with your arm?” the lord asked.

  I laughed. “What was it you said? I won’t suffer at your hands? Why don’t you have a look at your handiwork?” I said, shoving my arm out so he could see. The skin around my wrist was red and purple and swelling visibly. “Beastly creature,” I said hotly then dodged around him and headed back down the stairs.

  “Miss... Miss Hawking, isn’t it? Miss Hawking, it was an accident. I don’t know the strength of this machine,” the lord said.

  Furious, frightened, sad, and confused, I raced back to the bedchamber and slammed the door closed behind me.

  My father was gone.

  And I was left alone with a metallic beast.

  Chapter 13: The Great Escape

  Missus Silver came to my door twice to try to persuade me to come out, but I didn’t answer. From somewhere deeper in the castle, I heard the loud grumblings of the lord. I stared out the window of the castle. From my chamber, I could see the garden below, its metal and clockwork flowers. But beyond that, I saw the island where thick trees grew.

  I might have been trapped in this terrible place until Papa returned, but that didn’t mean I had to stay locked in my chamber. I was no Rapunzel.

  I opened up the wardrobe to discover several freshly laundered dresses had been left for me. They were all very old and far too elaborate for my taste. I was relieved to spot my simple traveling gown. I slipped it and my boots back on then, creeping quietly, I went to the door.