Rhys pulled out a chair for me, but I paused a moment when I spotted a piano sitting in the corner.
“Is that a pneumatic piano?” I asked, staring at the rare music piece.
“It is. It was a gift from Master Boatswain,” Rhys replied.
“Archibald Boatswain?”
Rhys nodded. “He was a friend...to this house.”
“I...” I said, looking from my seat at the dinner table to the piano. It was such a rare piece. “Do you mind if I—”
Rhys laughed. “Please, go ahead. You won’t be able to eat a bite until your curiosity is sated.”
“The music boxes I design... I studied all of Boatswain’s musical creations to understand how to make the metallic rollers to produce sound. I read that he had designed a few pianos, but no one knew what happened to them. Does it really play multiple songs?”
“Indeed it does.” Rhys went behind the piano and opened a panel. First, he pumped a pedal at the back to build air pressure. He then activated a level inside. Once he’d done so, he slowly let his foot off the pedal.
The gears inside the machine turned, and a moment later, the mechanics began to work.
I gasped as the music sounded from the piano. A moment later, the entire ballroom was bathed in the dulcet notes of a waltz.
I looked at Rhys, my eyes wide with excitement.
He extended his hand. I couldn’t help but notice it was the hand I had repaired. “A dance?”
I nodded then set my hand in his.
Rhys led me to the center of the room. Gently setting his other hand on my waist, we began to waltz.
I was suddenly very glad that Papa had made me practice dancing in the months leading up to the trip. It was Papa who had to endure the injured toes. While I was not a refined dancer by any stretch of the imagination, I could manage. I smiled. Was I a refined lady? No. That was not me. Mechanically skilled? Yes. Clever? Yes. I was well read and not bad looking. But refined? Well, no, but at the very least, I was able to pull off the waltz.
As Rhys and I spun around the room, however, I took a bit of pride in myself. Clearly, he knew all the forms of formal dance. He moved with precision. I was happy that I could keep step and was even more pleased to see a happy look on Rhys’s mechanical face. How unlikely it seemed that a metallic man could express so much emotion.
He looked truly pleased.
And when he gazed at me, he looked...well, now I was just reading into things. An automaton could not fall in love. Right? Right? But that look... He seemed enamored. And more, I sensed deep emotion in his expression which moved me.
The notes from the player piano filled the room with sweet music.
We paused when the song ended. I glanced back at the piano, curious to see how the machine would shift to the next piece. I smiled at Rhys then went back to the piano. Through the pane of glass above the keys, I watched as the metallic drum rolled. The metal had been beaten as thin as paper. A new roll of metal moved onto the player and the second song started. I stared at the machine. Boatswain had tinkered the material with the craft of a master metallurgist and the precision of a surgeon. He was a true master.
“It’s amazing,” I whispered, touching the glass.
“I’m glad it pleases you. Are you hungry?”
I nodded then Rhys and I both took a seat at the dining table. I ate quickly and lightly, well-aware that Rhys was not eating, as we chatted about the inner workings of the pneumatic piano. The servants had outdone themselves in preparing the meal: broiled lobster tail, truffles, puréed quince, baked garlic, and bara brith. Everything was delicious. As soon as I was done, I rose once more and went to the piano in time to see the roller move to another song. This time, the piano played Vivaldi.
“So someone else here was a lover of Vivaldi’s works,” I said.
“Indeed,” Rhys replied then extended his hand to me.
Again, we took to the floor. We moved slowly, spinning around the room with gentle ease. I loved the feel of my gown, the sweep of it as the hem brushed the floor, and the sensation of Rhys’s hand on my hip. I smiled at him. If only he were a living man. If only he were flesh and blood. If only he were the man I had seen in the enchanted mirror.
Rhys spun me once more, lowering me into a dip. When he gently lifted me, our eyes met. The expression on his face surprised me. If he’d been a living man, I’d swear he wanted to kiss me.
“Isabelle,” he whispered, touching my cheek gently. “There’s something I must tell you.”
My heart beat hard in my chest.
You cannot possibly be falling in love with an automaton.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
“Rhys,” I whispered.
“Isabelle, I...” he began then leaned toward me.
I froze, knowing the kiss was coming, not sure what to do, but wanting it all the same.
The piano suddenly clanked loudly. There was a sharp whine and then a loud pop followed by the shattering of glass.
Rhys stilled and looked toward the piano.
My breath quick, I suddenly caught hold of my senses.
The ballroom door handle rattled.
Both Rhys and I stepped away from one another.
The door opened, and Mister Flint entered. “Lord Rhys, is everything all right? Oh my dear, what has happened to Master Boatswain’s piano?”
Rhys and I crossed the room to look at the instrument. Heavy tension filled the air, unspoken words, unspoken deeds.
And at the heart of that was my confused emotions.
“Let me clean up the glass before Miss Hawking gets hurt,” Mister Flint said then hurried back into the hallway to fetch a broom.
Moving carefully around the glass, I looked inside the piano. “It became misaligned. There,” I said, pointing to the place where the rolled metal had gone astray. I traced the lines with my eyes. “Ah, I see. Look. The lead rusted off.” I went around to the back of the piano and removed the panel. Pulling off my yellow gloves, I knelt down then leaned into the instrument, looking at the broken piece. I inspected the inner workings. “Nothing else is broken save the glass and the rusted lead. Once the piece is replaced, it will work again. The lead has an odd shape though. It will need smithing to make a new one.”
I crawled back out of the instrument and dusted off my hands and dress.
“I...I do apologize,” Rhys said, his voice sounding tepid and awkward. “It has worked these many years. I’m sorry that it chose tonight to malfunction.”
“We all malfunction at times. And it does seem that the timing is never right. I did enjoy the music and the dancing. I loved all of it. Thank you, Rhys,” I said, perfectly aware that he was going to tell me something essential before Master Boatswain’s design decided to interrupt. And maybe more. The thought that the mechanical wanted to kiss me confused me.
Rhys bowed. “Thank you for joining me. It was a great pleasure.”
I stared at him. Whatever he was going to say, it appeared he’d decided it was better not to say anything.
The clock in the hall chimed ten o’clock.
“It’s very late. I’m sorry to have you up so long. You must be tired after today’s long walk,” Rhys said.
I wasn’t tired, but he already knew that.
“Rhys?”
“If you want to retire, please don’t stay up on my account. Mister Flint and I will work on cleaning up the piano.”
“I... All right. I do thank you for everything,” I said, searching his metallic face. Strange mech, what was he playing at? “It was an enchanting evening.”
At first Rhys avoided my glance, but then he turned and looked at me. He looked so sad. “It was my pleasure, Miss Hawking. More than you can ever know.”
A wash of mixed emotions nagged at me. I felt scared, sad, anxious, and...and a new feeling bloomed inside of me that I simply could not accept. He was a machine. This couldn’t be happening.
I curtseyed to him.
Then I turned and left the ballroom. I headed down the hall, crossed the foyer, and went outside to the metallic garden. I walked away from the castle until I found my way to a bench. Only there, once I was able to sit down in the darkness, out of sight of everyone, did I allow myself to cry.
Chapter 26: Tylwyth Teg
Isabelle.
Wiping the hot tears from my eyes, I turned and looked east toward the dark forest.
Isabelle, come.
Rising, I looked back at the castle. I saw candlelight through the windows, but no one had come outside.
Inhaling deeply, I walked through the garden to the east gate. To my surprise, the ornate gate was open. I stared down the path. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised to see a row of glowing blue mushrooms leading away from the castle.
I looked back at the fortress once more.
What was he going to tell me?
Was he really going to kiss me?
Was I losing my mind?
Isabelle, come.
My hands shaking, I stepped out into the dark forest, following the trail of fungi. I didn’t need them. I knew where I was going. I’d known it since I first set eyes on the place. The trail would lead me to the cave.
SLIM BEAMS OF MOONLIGHT guided my path as I worked my way down the road back to the trail that led to the mine.
Feeling my ankle twist as I stepped on yet another rock, I grumbled, “Stupid shoes.” I stopped and pulled off the delicate silk and bejeweled heels. As I turned down the side path leading to the mine, I set the shoes on a small boulder so I’d easily find them again. Steeling my nerve, I walked barefoot toward the mine.
The sounds of night birds and insects made a chorus in the dark forest. As I walked, my eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I made out shapes on the forest floor, including the fallen standing stone lying underneath the timbers of the cut tree. Under the light of the moon, it cast a soft blue glow.
I walked up the small hill to the entrance of the cave.
Moonbeams illuminated the entrance. Inside, it was as dark as a tomb. A lantern hung just inside. I grabbed the lamp then felt the shelf above it for matches. Although it was covered in dirt and cobwebs, I found a flint box. I lit the lantern. The orange glow of the flame seemed gaudy under the silvery moonlight. Standing at the mouth of the cave, mindful of every fairy tale and goblin story I had ever read or heard, I entered slowly. The answer to the mystery was here. And tonight, I would find it.
I FOLLOWED THE RAIL line deep into the cave. It was clear that blasting and mining had destroyed the natural splendor of this place. I walked through the darkness, feeling the angle of the rail line—and the cave—descend. I followed the metal rail until it reached its end at a natural slant in the rock. Here, the mine had not been blasted. Veins of silver still streaked the cave walls. It was beautiful. It glowed under the light of the lantern. The company had come this far, but no further. Ahead of me, the direction of the cave shifted dramatically to the left. A slim passage moved deeper into the cave. Above this entrance, I saw the same markings.
Isabelle. Come.
The voice, like a soft whisper, breathed from inside the dark cave. But this time, I could tell the voice was distinctly feminine, and the owner was close by.
Inhaling deeply, I steadied myself then pushed forward. The passage was long, narrow, and tilted to the side. Here, as in the other cave, silver veins marked the walls. I moved through the passage, exiting into a vast cavern.
I gasped. The walls all around glimmered with silver. The metal appeared like ivy, twisting through the rocks. Stalactites and stalagmites of silver protruded from the ceiling and floor. In the center of the room was a pool of water that glowed blue, the depths below shinning incandescently.
Sitting at the water’s edge, her fingertips gently brushing the water’s surface, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
“Hello, Isabelle,” she whispered, her voice tinkling like a silver bell.
I set the lamp down. The blue hue coming off the water was all the light I needed. I stared at the woman. Her hair was silvery in color, as were her eyes. She wore a soft blue dress embroidered all along the edges with silver thread in the shape of oak leaves, acorns, birds, and flowers. On her head was a silver diadem with a rainbow-colored gem at the middle.
“How do you like my forest?” she asked.
Her voice had a strange hollow sound, tinny and ethereal all at once.
“Beautiful. The most beautiful forest I have ever seen.”
“And my standing stones? I’ve seen you looking at them, studying them, trying to discover their secrets. Do you like them as well?”
“I do,” I said carefully, fully aware that my skin had risen to gooseflesh, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Something inside me was screaming at me to run.
“They are very old, as are the symbols thereon. I like that you find them curious. I see you have a sharp mind. Do you like my island?”
“I do.”
“And what about the castle grounds, do you like the perfect garden?”
I could feel the trap in the question. “I... It is an interesting puzzle.”
The woman laughed, but not menacingly. “And what about the castle? Do you like it?”
My heart was slamming in my chest. I had been wrong to come here. I was in terrible danger. One wrong answer, and I would pay dearly. “I like the library.”
Again, she laughed. “And what about the little toy soldiers inside?”
I stared at her. She was smirking now. There was so much malice in the expression, I was taken aback.
I didn’t answer.
“I like my forest, my stones, my cave,” she said, motioning about her. “I suppose I might even like that library you mention, though I have not seen it. I didn’t mind the castle much, not when the lady lived there. I liked her very much, her paintings, even her little hermitage which I permitted. I even enjoyed her boy, when he was young and full of his own will. Such a lively, happy thing, full of art and life. Funny how all things transform with time. But I hated that garden. The bramble, the flowers, they all wept from the constant cutting and pruning and shaping and molding. Perfect lines. Perfect shapes. I hated it, but I even let that pass.”
She stared at me. “You are an interesting thing. You have the mind of a tinker but the heart of my people. Why do you like my forest?”
“For its natural grace.”
“Natural grace. Like that?” she said, motioning across the cave. There, amongst a stack of other riches, sat my sculpture of the birds who sang Vivaldi.
I gasped. “H-how?”
The woman waved her hand and the music box sprung to life, the little birds warbling perfectly. She waved her hand once more, stopping the tune, then turned back to me.
“You, who can create that, must understand what I have done here, why I have done it. I could not have them take this place from us, you see? Do you understand? The old lord was a man of coin and when he died, we all rejoiced. But the young lord, whom we all loved, changed. He wanted to live up to his father’s reputation. He wanted his father’s wealth and fame. So he came here, sketched and planned, then brought machines. Here. To this sacred place where his mother had warned him never to tread. Where his mother had told him that we still existed. Where we had taken sanctuary. He came here to destroy what was left. I could not let him, you must understand. I could not let him become a man of metal, a man of machines, a man without the heart that his mother had nurtured in him. I could not let him take this place from us. So I gave him what he wanted. I wanted him to see what it meant to be a man of metal. I made him, all of them, and that accursed garden, exactly what they were all trying to be.
“I gave them what they wanted to show them.
“To teach them.
“To punish them.
“Do you understand?”
I did understand. I truly and clearly understood. Rhys and the others were
not machines. They were living people turned clockwork by this fey creature. I did understand, but I did not approve.
“How could you do such a thing?” I retorted hotly, instantly regretting my tone.
The fey woman’s face darkened. “He deserved it. He wanted to be a man of metal, he wanted to rape this place to make his fortune. Well, I made him into what he wanted. I thought you would understand.”
“I understand why you did it. This place is special, sacred. I see that. But what of Rhys? Did you ever seek him out, show him, ask him to stop?”
“His heart was corrupted by his father. He loved nothing, no one, save wealth and luxury. He became a hard man in spirit, so I made him so in flesh.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? I see that bruise on your arm, Isabelle Hawking. The lord is still a monster, and a monster he will remain until he learns to love and is worthy of another’s love. But rusted toys can never be repaired,” she said with a laugh. “Rusted toys can never be healed. Don’t you see? There is no hope. There is no key to that heart. No key!” she said and then began laughing loudly and menacingly.
Her laughter, however, was cut short by the sound of barking.
Kelly.
The fey creature rose with fierce suddenness. Her eyes turned black, her face contorting angrily as she glared at the cave opening.
“Leave this place,” she hissed at me.
“Isabelle?” Rhys called from the cave.
“Rhys,” I yelled in reply.
I turned to look back at the fey woman then gasped to find her at my side. Her gown flowed unnaturally all around her. Her eyes were black as coal, her silver hair flying as if caught in a torrent.
“Leave. Leave this place. Leave this island and never come back. I was wrong. He does not deserve your love. He does not deserve to feel again. Leave this place and let him rust as punishment for seeking to destroy the last sanctuary of my kind,” she said then in a flurry of skirts she disappeared into the pool of water.
The cave rumbled, rocks tumbling in an alcove not far away.
“Isabelle? Isabelle, were are you?” Rhys called.
Beauty and Beastly: Steampunk Beauty and the Beast (Steampunk Fairy Tales) Page 12
