Frostbitten Fairy Tales

by Melanie Karsak

  Master Boatswain handed me the stone. It was triangular in shape and had a hole in the middle.

  “A hagstone,” I said.

  Master Boatswain nodded. “Do you know of them?”

  I’d heard of hagstones before. Hagstones, or holed stones, were thought to have supernatural powers. If one looked through a hagstone, one could see the preternatural. Of course, such stories were just fairy tales, but the expression on Master Boatswain’s face was quite earnest.

  “I do. Uncle Horace has a book on them. But Master Boatswain, I’m afraid I don’t make the connection.”

  Master Boatswain tapped the stone. “Let in a little love, a little life force, a little magic. You’ll find it there,” he said, pointing to the hole. “This is where magic lives. You need to add a little magic to your design, Miss Rossetti. Alas, I’ve only one stone, but this will do for now,” he said, patting my little clockwork gnome on the head. “Now, Archie, I’m for bed,” he said. “Walk me upstairs. I don’t mind the steps, but Horace’s castle is a maze. It will take me a month to find my room.”

  Archie chuckled. “Of course, Grandfather,” he said then turned to me. “Good night, Miss Rossetti. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “If you can catch her,” Master Boatswain said.

  Archie chuckled.

  “Good night, Archie. Goodnight, Master Boatswain. And thank you for the hagstone.”

  Master Boatswain patted my gnome once more. “Just give it a try. You never know.” He winked at me then turned and left.

  I slipped the hagstone into my pocket, packed up the gnomes, then headed to my room. Once I was safely inside, I changed into my dressing gown and slid into the window seat that sat looking out at the garden. I took out the hagstone. Lifting it, I glanced through the stone out the window. The lawn surrounding Strawberry Hill was covered in powdery white snow. It glistened in the moonlight, shimmering like diamonds.

  Magic.

  Hardly a surprising proposal from one of Uncle Horace’s friends. But it seemed too fantastical an idea to come from Master Boatswain whom I’d always guessed to be a man of science.

  Looking through the hagstone, I glanced down the lane. There, at the entrance to Strawberry Hill, I spotted robed figures just outside the gate. They stared at the castle, their eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

  Hooligans? No. I recognized the robes. It was the traveling merchants.

  I swallowed hard and lowered the hagstone.

  Looking out the with my naked eye, I espied the gate once more.

  There was no one there. No one.

  Had it just been shadows? A trick of the trees and the snow.

  Willing my hand to be steady, I lifted the hagstone again.

  I clenched my jaw when I saw the figures there once more…through the eye of the hagstone. And only through the eye of the hagstone.

  Like a whisper on the wind, they called: Come buy. Come buy.

  Jumping up, I flung the curtains closed then crossed the room to blow out my candle. I slipped into bed and pulled up the coverlet. Master Boatswain’s words had my imagination running away with itself. There was no such thing as magic. And it was nearly Christmas. Nothing bad could lurk at this time of year. I was just imagining things. I clenched the stone hard in my hand and willed myself to sleep, dreaming—not of imaginary monsters—but of twinkling, mistletoe-green eyes.

  Chapter 5: Creatures a’Stirring

  I woke at sunrise the next morning. The house was quiet, only the servants moving about. No doubt, Uncle Horace and his friends had been talking late into the night. If I was quick, I could stop by Lizzie and Laura’s shop, let Annabeth know the good news, then make it back before breakfast. No doubt Laura and Lizzie would be at it already, especially considering how busy they had been. Poor dears, I worried about them.

  Heading to my wardrobe, I pulled out an old dress, but then I paused. Whatever I put on, I would wear the same thing to breakfast. I returned the old dress to the wardrobe and pulled out one of my favorite red gowns. It was a fine gown with long sleeves and a bundle of white, French lace at the neck. It brought out the bloom in my cheeks. I hadn’t worn it since I arrived, but I knew it was flattering…in case anyone was looking.

  Taking a little time to fix my hair, I pinned it up at the back of my head and affixed it with a pretty red bow. I pulled on my boots, grabbed my red cape, and slipped down the stairs to the library where my basket sat waiting. Taking the gnomes and supplies, I headed out the front door. Just outside, Mister Edwards was extinguishing the gaslamps while a footman cleared the snow and ice from the front stoop.

  “Miss Rossetti,” Mister Edwards said. “You’re awake early.”

  “Yes. Just need to take a quick jaunt to town to return this,” I said, patting the basket. “I’ll be back in no time.”

  “The breakfast bell rings at nine o’clock, Miss Rossetti. You have two hours,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Then I better be on my way.”

  At that, I gave Mister Edwards a wave then rushed down the drive. As I neared the gate at the end of the driveway, I remembered what I had seen from my window the night before. Pausing, I pulled out the hagstone and looked toward the gate.

  There was nothing there.

  I eyed the hagstone. As I did so, light snow began to fall, dusting my hands.

  Magic.

  Either that or I had a very active imagination. No doubt I had merely turned shadows into phantoms, Master Boatswain exciting my nerves with the idea that there was something to the hagstone folklore.

  But if it were true? In that case, it was a pity I didn’t have hagstones for the rest of the gnomes.

  Passing the gate, I headed down the road and toward the woods. As I neared the thick forest, I slowed a little. In my haste to get to town, I had nearly forgotten the merchants. I hadn’t gone far when I heard their call.

  “Come buy. Come buy.”

  I peered into the woods. Sure enough, I spotted the colorful tents deep within the forest. I could smell smoke, and see the merchants milling about their fire. They were singing a merry tune:

  “Come buy our orchard fruits,

  Come buy, come buy:

  Apples and quinces,

  Lemons and oranges,

  Plump unpeck’d cherries,

  Melons and raspberries,

  Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches,

  Swart-headed mulberries,

  Wild, free-born cranberries,

  Crabapples, dewberries,

  Pineapples, blackberries,

  Apricots, strawberries;

  All ripe together

  In summer weather,

  Morns that pass by,

  Fair eves that fly;

  Come buy, come buy:

  Taste them and try,

  Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;

  Come buy, come buy.”

  I stood watching them, a strange but merry troupe. They danced around their fire.

  “Miss Rossetti,” a voice said from just behind me. “Don’t you want to buy?”

  I slowly turned around.

  There, a small man wearing a hood that hid his features was holding a basket filled with flowers. I spotted roses, daisies, irises, tulips, all manner of hothouse flowers. The basket also held sun-ripened strawberries, apples, cherries, and lemons. How had he come by such fruits? I looked from the basket to the merchant. He wore a colorful, patchwork cloak with bells on his hood and on his shoes.

  “Don’t you want to buy?” he asked again.

  “N-no. Thank you. I’m in a hurry.”

  “But we have many things a quick, young lady like you might like to buy. Won’t you come see?”

  “No, sir. I have no interest in your wares nor any coin for them.”

  “Perhaps. What’s in your basket? We could make a trade. We’d like to trade with you, Miss Rossetti.”

  I clutched my basket. “No. No trades. I’m not interested in buying anything. Good day to you,” I said, and steeling my n
erve, I turned and headed down the road.

  I would stop at the constable when I got to the village. It was time for these vagrants to be on their way.

  “Don’t you want to come buy, Miss Rossetti? We have all the things a person desires,” the little man called from behind me.

  “You have nothing I desire,” I called in return.

  Behind me, the little man laughed. “We shall see. We shall see.”

  Quickening my step, I hurried to the village, going at once to see Laura and Lizzie. Lizzie was outside the shop sweeping away the snow. Laura was inside arranging the window display.

  “Scarlette,” Lizzie said happily on seeing me approach. “It’s very early.”

  “I come with good news. I’ve figured out a mechanism to make the piano girl work. I’ll have her done this morning.”

  “Oh my! Well done. We knew you could do it.”

  “I had a bit of help. Master Boatswain—the Master Boatswain—and his grandson are visiting Uncle Horace. The younger Boatswain gave me a tip.”

  Lizzie stopped. “Is that right? My word. Let’s go tell Laura,” she said. Setting the broom aside, she reached for the door only to find it locked. “Oh, that’s right, we came in through the back. Mind you,” Lizzie said then pointed to a round placard on the wall that contained the shop name. Pushing it aside, she revealed a small divot in the wall from which she withdrew a key. She unlocked the door and slipped the key discreetly back into its hiding place. She winked at me then we went inside.

  “Scarlette! Good morning,” Laura called happily to me when I entered.

  “Laura, Scarlette has figured out our piano girl.”

  “Oh, very good!”

  “And she had a bit of help. You’ll never guess who.”

  “No doubt that uncle of hers. Earl Walpole is such a clever man.”

  “That he is, but… Scarlette, you tell her.”

  “I chuckled. Master Archibald Boatswain and his grandson are at Strawberry Hill. The younger Boatswain gave me a bit of advice.”

  “Boatswain,” Laura said with a gasp. “That’s remarkable. Can you believe it, Lizzie? On one of our toys.”

  “How rare,” Lizzie exclaimed.

  “You must see,” I told the sisters. Motioning to the workshop, I led them to the back. I removed the gnomes and set them on the table, lining up the tinkers and preparing the musicians. I then pulled out the windup key and set the leader into motion. In tandem, I activated the music box in the piano. This time, it really did look like the little gnome was conducting.

  “Oh, Scarlette!” Laura exclaimed.

  “Oh, joyful!” Lizzie added.

  “Dear little gnome men, how sweet,” Laura said. “Oh Scarlette, you are such a clever one. These are so wonderful. Who would have thought these gnome men could be so festive,” Laura said with a laugh.

  The grandfather clock at the front of the shop struck seven-thirty.

  “Oh dear, time to get to work,” Lizzie said.

  Laura nodded. “Teddy bears are the order of the day,” she told me. She then went to the workbench and began pulling out supplies.

  Lizzie went back to the front of the shop to unlock the door.

  The gnome wound down and became silent once more.

  No life.

  Master Boatswain was right. It was a pity they didn’t have a bit of magic. I pulled the hagstone from my pocket.

  Taking the clockwork gnome with me, I went to the other end of the table and set out some supplies: scissors, needle and thread, and a swatch of red fabric.

  “Sorry about this. It will only pinch a moment,” I told the little gnome then snipped a hole in his chest. Removing a bit of stuffing, I added in the hagstone where his heart should be. I then sewed up his chest once more. Cutting the red felt fabric into the shape of a small heart, I sewed it on, covering the cut I’d made in the fabric.

  “Now, let’s see what magic you’ve got,” I whispered to the little gnome man, patting him on his head.

  Setting him aside, I then grabbed the doll who would sit at the piano. Pulling clockwork pieces from the box, I set out everything I needed to make a new, clockwork torso for the piano player then sat down and got to work. Focusing, I measured the doll’s torso, made some sketches, then began putting the pieces together. I heard noise at the front of the shop as shoppers began to filter in. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. The shop would be bustling today. Concentrating, I worked on the mechanics of my mini automaton. I was surprised how quickly the design came together. As I worked, I considered new ways to fashion the arms. Maybe Archie was right. Maybe there was something more to this. Could I create a life-sized man out of such parts? I knew Master Hawking, Master Boatswain, and other famous tinkers were considering ways to do so. But to give them sentience? Ethics boards were still so rudimentary. Maybe, one day, someone very clever would sort it all out.

  I adjusted the stuffing inside the doll and working carefully, tinkered her back together. It took several tries to get it just so. Winding her again and again, finally, I got her movements fluid. With the first tap of her hand on the toy piano, she activated the music box inside. Afterward, her fingers only lightly touched the keys, creating the illusion she was playing. It was possible that I could align her in a way to make her play a simple tune if I had a real piano. But such delicate work would take months to work out. But it was possible, if the right mind set about the task.

  Once the mechanics were ready, I sewed the pretty doll back together, straightened her buttons and bows, added a weight to her body so she would stay put on the piano bench, then stood back and had a look. Winding her one more time, I let her play.

  She worked perfectly.

  “Done,” I called to Laura.

  Laura rose and came and had a look.

  “Be still my heart,” she said as she watched the doll play. Laura wrapped her arm around me and gave me a hug. When she did so, I felt how frail she was under her soft skin. “Sweet Scarlette, thank you. Oh, Lizzie and I will miss you so when you go.”

  “Miss Laura, you and your sister really should take on an apprentice. The work is so much for you.”

  “We have one,” she said then pinched my cheek.

  I chuckled. “A proper apprentice.”

  “Yes, you’re right, you’re right. After the season,” she said then eyed the piano playing doll once more. “Thank you, Scarlette.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Laura patted my arm then returned to her end of the workbench once more.

  The grandfather clock rang once more. This time, the clock struck eight-thirty.

  “Oh dear,” I said, turning to Laura. “I have to get back by nine, and I have another errand to take care of. I’ll return this afternoon to see what else I can help with.”

  Laura smiled at me. “Only if the earl allows it. With all his guest there, shouldn’t you be at Strawberry Hill?”

  “Once the conversation starts, they won’t even notice I’m gone. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

  Laura chuckled then shook her head. “No, my dear.”

  Grabbing my red cape, I slipped it back on then headed to the front.

  “Goodbye, Lizzie,” I called. “I’ll be back this afternoon.”

  Lizzie, who was helping a customer looking over the selection of baby dolls, waved farewell.

  Rushing, I headed back outside.

  I pulled on my gloves as I walked, making my way down the lane to Annabeth’s flat once more. I still needed to pick up the gifts for her and her children, but I had one more day. When I reached her door, I knocked.

  A few moments later, Annabeth opened the door.

  “Oh! Miss Rossetti. Come in.”

  “Another time. I must head back to Strawberry Hill, but I have news! Whenever you have a moment, come to Uncle Horace’s house. Ask for Mister Edwards, the butler. We have a position for a maid at the house, and Uncle Horace asked Mister Edwards to meet you.”

  “You… You got me a meeti
ng? At Strawberry Hill?”

  “Just let Mister Edwards know any experience you have, anything at all. And go at your earliest convenience.”

  “Oh, Miss Rossetti,” she said then took my hand. “Bless you, miss. What an angel you are. Bless you!”

  “Anyone would do the same,” I said. My heart brimmed with joy to see her so happy. The look of relief was plain on her face. “Now, I must be off. Tell your wee ones hello for me.”

  “Of course, of course,” she said, letting me go. “Miss Rossetti, thank you.”

  I turned and headed back across town. When I passed the village square, Thomas, the baker’s son, was outside the shop barking to the crowd.

  “Plum pudding, gingerbread, fresh-baked biscuits,” he called. Spotting me, he waved. “What do you need today, Miss Rossetti?”

  “A plum pudding,” I called back. “Two of them. Save them for me. I’ll be back after luncheon.”

  He grinned happily. “As you wish! I’ll tell Papa to save the best for you!”

  I waved to him then headed back down the road toward Strawberry Hill. If I hurried, I was going to make it just in time. I was nearly there when I remembered that I hadn’t stopped by the constable. As I passed through the woods, I spotted the merchants’ camp once more. This time, however, they were silent. No one met me by the road. And no one called. A trail of smoke rose from their fire, but there was no sign of the merchants. Hurrying along, I rushed from the woods hoping they wouldn’t spot me.

  To my great relief, I didn’t hear the unsettling call of come buy, come buy.

  I rushed down the lane at Strawberry Hill. The sound of the bells on the church in town rang nine o’clock just as I neared the front door. Moving quickly, and nearly slipping on the ice on the front stoop, I opened the front door to find one of the footmen, Simpson, just inside.

  “Miss Rossetti. Just in time,” he whispered with a grin as he helped me take off my cape. “They just rang.”

  I removed my outside wear, pausing to brush off some snow from my hem.

  “Mister Edwards left your slippers here,” he said, guiding me to the coatroom. He handed a pair of indoor shoes to me. “No one will ever be the wiser.”

  Grinning, I patted the man on the shoulder then slipped on my slippers as I headed toward the parlor. Everyone was still gathering before going in for morning meal. I scanned the room for Archie. The Boatswains had not come down yet.