Beauty and Beastly

by Melanie Karsak

  As I headed upstairs to tidy myself up, I thought about Doctor Murray’s wife, Elyse. She was a well-noted actress and always seemed to be fashionably dressed. Did she wear her hair up or pinned at the nape? Some days, I truly missed the mother I never knew.

  AFTER LINGERING IN a long bath, during which I read three chapters of the little tome on goblins from Horace Walpole’s collection—an interesting fiction piece that read like a spellbook—I went to my chamber and styled my hair, trimmed my nails, and dressed for the day. Of course, it was already after lunch, but no matter. I then went to the workshop where I cleaned up my bench, packing the tools I would carry with me. I left my toolbox in the foyer then went into the kitchen where I stole a hunk of bread and some cheese then headed back to my room. Slipping into a window seat that looked out over the Thames, I opened up the goblin book once more.

  It was dusk when Papa returned. I spotted him walking down the lane. Setting down my book, I rushed down the steps to meet him at the door.

  “Settled. All settled,” he said, handing me his hat.

  “You smell like the wind,” I told him.

  He laughed. “What an odd thing to say.”

  “Well, I am an odd girl.”

  “Who says?”

  “Everyone?”

  Papa laughed. “What is the use of being ordinary? Come, let’s see what there is for supper. I smell chicken and potatoes.”

  Following Papa, I headed into the dining room where the table—well, half the table, as the other half was stacked with books and boxes—was already set.

  “Shall we serve dinner now?” Martin asked.

  “Indeed, good man. Let’s have one last supper before we turn pirate.”

  I chuckled and slipped into the seat beside Papa. “Now, tell me, how is the ship?”

  “A ship, all in all. Stout and seaworthy. But you do know how I hate sailing.”

  “Sailing. And flying. And riding. And motoring.”

  “We have feet. Why not use those?”

  “Papa,” I said with a laugh, reaching out to squeeze his hand. I knew better than to press the subject. I knew very well why he would not fly.

  “Now, in the morning, Doctor Murray and his wife will come to see us off. I need to pass Doctor Murray some papers. He’ll be taking care of some business for me in our absence. And then we will sail on the morning tide.”

  I felt a knot form in my stomach. The sense of disappointment still lingered. I needed to let it go. “Very well. And our ship? On which vessel are we sailing?”

  “The Prospero.”

  “The Prospero,” I repeated.

  “May she help us prosper!”

  “Indeed.”

  “Here you are, sir,” Martin said as he entered the dining room pushing a serving cart.

  “Very good, very good,” Papa said, slipping his napkin into the collar of his shirt.

  Martin set out our plates, poured us some wine, then departed.

  “To the Prospero,” Papa said, lifting his glass.

  “To the Prospero,” I repeated, toasting him. “May good fortune be ours.”

  Papa and I clinked our glasses then drank.

  Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day.

  Chapter 5: The Mirror

  There was a flurry of activity around the Prospero as the ship prepared for departure. I stood at the side of the ship looking out at the Thames. The wind tugged on my blue traveling coat and made the skirts of my yellow dress flutter all around me. I held on to the rail of the ship. Tremors of excitement ran through my body.

  “Isabelle,” Papa called, crossing the deck toward me. “Doctor and Missus Murray are here. They wanted to wish you farewell,” he said, motioning back to the handsome couple standing beside a carriage not far from the dock.

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw Doctor Murray. What a fine figure he cut in his top hat and dark coat. Elyse, his wife, waved to me. I sighed.

  “Very well,” I said then rushed down the plank to meet them.

  They smiled at me.

  “We are nearly ready. I’ve never been at sea before. Papa tells me I will adore it. But I will miss you both,” I said happily as I approached. My stomach knotted, the ache of jealousy trying to form once more.

  “I have a small gift for you. For luck,” Elyse—Missus Murray—said, handing me an item wrapped in a pretty silk scarf. The scarf itself was gift enough. I smiled at her. She was kind, and beautiful, and talented. She was so...perfect. It would be easy to hate her. But how could I? She had never meant to do me any harm. I cast a glance at Doctor Murray who favored me with a small smile—that was all I could ever get out of him. I suppressed a defeated sigh.

  I opened the package. Inside, was a small hand mirror. “This workmanship,” I said, tracing my finger along the silver filigree. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” And I honestly had not. Not even the finest jewel crafters in London could make such a detailed, exquisite piece.

  “It’s quite magical. I’m told that if you look into this mirror under the light of the moon, it will show you your heart’s desire,” Elyse said.

  Was she joking? I looked up at her, studying her face. An actress by trade, she could hold any expression she chose with conviction. But she seemed quite serious.

  “You jest, I know, but what a fascinating idea. Elyse, I cannot accept this. It’s too—”

  “I don’t need it anymore. I have my heart’s desire,” she said, beaming up at Doctor Murray.

  Was she trying to hurt my feelings? I knew she suspected my unreturned affection for Doctor Murray, but I’d never known her to be cruel. I studied her face once more. Again, I saw that same honest expression. No, she wasn’t trying to hurt me. She was just...in love. I looked back at the mirror.

  “Safe travels, Miss Hawking,” Doctor Murray said.

  “Isabelle! We’re ready,” Papa called from the ship. He beckoned to me.

  “Time to go,” I whispered, clutching the mirror my chest. I looked at Elyse once more. She smiled at me in all sincerity. The mirror really was lovely, and it was a thoughtful gift. “I promise to keep your magic mirror with me at all times,” I said with a light laugh.

  Elyse smiled.

  “Doctor Murray,” I said, dropping a curtsey. “Missus Murray.” I smiled at them both, gave a little wave, then turned and ran back to the ship, joining Papa once more.

  We both waved to the couple then turned to settle in for the trip.

  “What’s this?” he asked, looking down at the bundle in my hands.

  I handed the mirror to him. “My goodness,” he said, looking at the silverwork.

  “A gift from Missus Murray.”

  “It’s remarkable. I wonder where she got it.”

  I chuckled. “She said it’s magic.”

  “Actresses...professional liars,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “She is a sweet lady. And very thoughtful.”

  “Sir. We are ready to depart,” one of the sailors said. “Perhaps you and your daughter would be more comfortable below deck with the other passengers?”

  “Good God, man. No. We’ll stay here—out of the way, I assure you—and have a look.”

  The sailor gave me a passing glance but simply nodded to my father and went on his way.

  “Come,” Papa said, leading me to a spot along the rail away from the flurry of activity. We settled in on a box and watched as they unmoored the vessel.

  The wind whipped harshly, pulling my dark locks from my long braid.

  I set the mirror in my lap and used the pretty scarf, which was trimmed in purple and blue roses, to cover my hair.

  Papa looked at me then chuckled. “We should have bought you a proper traveling bonnet.”

  “What? You don’t like my babushka? Agatha would be proud.”

  Papa laughed again then pinched my cheek. “How like your mother you are at times. Always full of mirth.”

  I smiled then took his hand and gave it a squeeze. I stared out at the Thames, wond
ering for the thousandth time about my mother, a mysterious but omnipresent figure in my life who, at least for me, had never really existed. I gazed down at the mirror in my lap wishing Elyse’s magic mirror could show my mother to me.

  Catching the bright light of the sun, the mirror glimmered brightly, shining in my eyes. In that odd moment, I could have sworn I’d seen something in the looking glass, but the light passed, and only the blinding sun was there. Magic indeed. I turned the mirror over, covering the light, and stared out at the Thames, knowing there was no way for my wish to ever come true.

  Chapter 6: The Tempest

  The captain informed us that the trip would take the entire day and evening. “The moon will be out when we pull into port tomorrow night. But barring any bad weather, we should arrive on schedule,” the man informed my father as he passed by.

  The sights and sounds of the ship were fascinating. I spent the morning on the deck watching the sailors work, enjoying the view as the Thames slipped past and we put out to sea. It had occurred to me on several occasions that if we’d taken a coach to Wales, or even gone by motor, we would have saved ourselves a considerable amount of time, but I said nothing to Papa. He had his reasons, and I understood him well.

  There were ten other passengers onboard, most of whom stayed below deck even as the shipped rounded Cornwall, moving from the Channel north. It was a shame. They were missing everything. I slid my hand over the rail and felt the spray of the dark blue water on my palm.

  “Look, Papa,” I said happily, spying a pod of dolphins. Their fins wove in and out of the water between the waves as they swam alongside the ship. One of the creatures leaped from the depths below, jumping over and over again as it played with the waves. It came so close to the side of the boat that I could see its dark eye glancing at me.

  “Curious creature,” Papa said. “Just look at him.”

  Laughing, I waved to the dolphin. Eventually, the pod swam off leaving me with an idea.

  “Oh, Papa, what a wonderful sculpture it would make, dolphins swimming amongst pitching waves,” I said, quickly pulling out my notebook and turning to a blank page.

  “I can see it now, my dear,” Papa said as he lit his pipe and settled in with his book once more.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening drawing my new design. It was only when the light grew dim after sunset that I realized it was time to go below deck.

  “Well, my dear, I can’t read another word in this light,” Papa said.

  “I was beginning to come to the same conclusion,” I said, closing my journal.

  “The waves have begun to toss a bit. Shall we go below?”

  I nodded.

  At that, we found our way to the quarters. Papa was right. The waves had grown rough as night had fallen. Bracing myself so I didn’t tumble, I descended the narrow steps below deck. In the mess hall, the others were settling in for a meager dinner. Papa and I went first to our small cabin.

  “Dinner, Isabelle?” Papa asked as he washed his hands with the small pitcher of water on a narrow basin.

  I shook my head. “I think I’ll rest instead.”

  “Very well. Let me see what kind of wine they have. All this heaving is giving me a bit of a headache.”

  At that, he left me.

  I crawled up onto my bunk. The mattress was overly stiff, but the sea air had made me tired. I stuffed my journal into my bag with my books and Elyse’s mirror then closed my eyes. I must have fallen asleep quickly, and deeply, because I didn’t fully wake again. Sometime that evening, I heard Papa return. He was talking about the weather taking a turn, but said not to worry. Seeing that I was still mostly asleep, he didn’t push the conversation further. I heard him crawl into his bunk below, mumbling about how hard the bed was. I didn’t hear anything else. Instead, I was lost in dreams.

  IT WAS THE STRANGENESS of the sound that first woke me. I was dreaming I was in a forest. Somewhere, far in the distance, a tree fell, and a woman screamed. That seemed odd to me. Then I heard a scream again followed by the sound of rough voices shouting orders.

  “What in the devil?” Papa said as he woke.

  The ship pitched sideways, and in my sleepy state, I rolled out of the cot and hit the floor. My eyes only opened just in time to see my bag come sliding toward me.

  Gasping, I leaped forward to catch it before Elyse’s mirror shattered into a thousand pieces.

  The ship pitched once again, and I fell backward.

  “Isabelle,” Papa called, reaching out to me.

  “I’m all right,” I called as I braced myself against the wall.

  “Hard port! Hard port!” I heard someone scream overhead.

  Then there was a terrible jolt as the ship slammed into something.

  A moment later, water began leaking into the cabin.

  “Good God,” Papa yelped. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed my hand.

  Securing my satchel around me, I followed Papa as he flung open the door. From the other end of the ship in the direction of the mess hall, water filled the boat rapidly.

  I gasped. “We’re shipwrecked.”

  We headed quickly up the steps to the deck of the ship. There, I saw the mast had splintered and fallen over the side. And then I saw why.

  All around, a wild tempest tossed waves onto the deck of the ship. The battered vessel cracked. The wind whipped horribly, and to my shock, I saw it was heavy with a squall of snow. Holding on to a pole for dear life, I gazed around me in the darkness. The deck of the ship was lit only by two small lanterns. The sailors were working busily trying to get the small life raft ready and load up the first of the passengers.

  “Master Hawking! Miss Hawking! Come on,” the captain called, waving us to the small boat. The wind whipped ferociously, the snowflakes blinding me. Waves crashed all around, drenching us with cold water as the icy blast froze us.

  “Isabelle, come on,” Papa said, gripping my hand tightly. Moving carefully, we made our way toward the rowboat.

  The sailors tried to hold the small boat steady as the rest of the passengers got on, but a huge wave toppled over the side of the ship, knocking two of the men from their feet, washing them out into the sea. They lost the lead on the boat, and the vessel, carried by the wave, disappeared into the darkness. From where I stood, braced against a pole, I couldn’t see if the tiny boat had capsized or not.

  Behind me, I heard another terrible crack.

  I looked back to see the ship splintering in half.

  “This way,” Papa called, pulling me toward the front of the ship where the captain and the sailors were readying another rowboat.

  Papa and I moved toward them. We were just about there when the ship below us heaved. The wind whipped wildly and a squall of snow blinded me.

  And then, a giant wave smashed over the side of the vessel.

  I heard the captain scream.

  I felt my feet lift off the deck as the wave slammed me into the sea.

  I felt Papa’s fingers leave my grasp as the sea violently tore our hands apart.

  Something hit me hard on the back of the head.

  Then there was nothing.

  Chapter 7: Shipwrecked

  “She has windup keys.”

  “I see. I see. Look! Look! She’s wearing keys.”

  “She’s waking up.”

  “Go. Go.”

  I coughed hard and spit up water. My lungs ached. I slowly opened my eyes. I was lying on a rocky beach. Water lapped at my feet. I coughed again, clearing out the last of the briny water from my mouth, nose, and lungs. I sat up slowly, the world around me slowly coming into focus. The back of my head hurt, and the strain of my eyes told me I had hit my head hard.

  Sitting up, I looked around me.

  Debris from the shipwreck littered the beach. Gazing out at the waves, I saw nothing on the horizon. The pebbly beach was entirely deserted save the wreckage and me. I looked behind me to see a dense forest. The shoreline was shrouded in fog, but it
was not snowing. In fact, it felt like a warm spring morning, the air damp with dense fog.

  I was surprised to find my satchel was still strung around me.

  Legs shaking, I rose. My head swam dizzily, and for a moment, I thought I might be ill. Scanning around, I spotted a tall stick. I picked it up then braced myself against it as I took in my surroundings.

  There was nothing here save the wind, the sea, and the forest.

  I gazed out at the waves once more. While there was no sign of the ship, I did spot the dorsal fins of dolphins swimming not far from shore.

  Steadying myself, I turned back toward the shoreline.

  Papa. I needed to find Papa.

  “Hello?” I called.

  My voice echoed across a vast empty space.

  In the forest, a flock of birds was startled by the sound of my voice. They flew off. Otherwise, it was eerily silent. Yet I couldn’t shake the sense that someone was close by.

  “Hello? Anyone?” I called again.

  No one answered.

  I glanced at the beach. All manner of clothes, ropes, splinters of wood, and even a tobacco tin had floated to the shore. There could be others like me who’d washed up on the beach. I needed to look. Someone may be hurt...or worse. Papa. I needed to find Papa or the next village down the shore or something.

  Leaning against the tall staff, I began walking down the pebbly beach. The rocks on the shoreline were round and black and worn smooth by the relentless waves. My head ached, and my legs felt weak, but I kept moving.

  “Papa? Papa?” I called, looking toward the dense forest. The woods were thick with massive oak trees. I couldn’t remember ever seeing such wide trunks before. It would take three men to reach their arms around the massive oak. The fog shifted on the ground below the trees. It was so dark in the forest, but then I heard something, like the tinkling of a small silver bell.

  “Hello?” I called.

  For the life of me, I could have sworn I heard a child’s laughter.

  “Hello? Is there anyone there?”