Midnight in Everwood

by M. A. Kuzniar

  Drosselmeier appeared the perfect guest.

  Chapter Six

  When evening tipped into night and the witching hour fell upon the Stelle townhouse, all was as silent as the stars etched in the skies. Marietta wandered down a hallway on the top floor. It was a world of deep burgundy carpet and oil paintings of notable Stelles throughout the ages. Though the rest of the house had since been redecorated in lighter pastels and florals, the hallway leading to the old nursery had been left languishing in the Victorian era. Marietta found Frederick warming himself before the fire in what was now the siblings’ drawing room. His spotted necktie was undone, his black jacket shed. He spoke without turning. ‘I haven’t seen Mother this excited since the Cambers’ son expressed an interest in stealing you away. I almost feel sorry for Drosselmeier.’

  Marietta clicked the door shut harder than she’d intended. The rosy glow of the pale wallpaper and the crackling fire made the room cosy despite the dated furniture and ragged carpets. It was the only room in the townhouse into which their parents didn’t venture and the two of them had spent many an hour together in this solace. It had been where Frederick had stood before her with his beau, Geoffrey, and unburdened himself of his secret. Where they stole away for entire evenings, Marietta pirouetting through the night as Frederick sketched, their confidences burrowing deeper and more heartfelt as they neared the bottom of the champagne bottle.

  Frederick turned to survey her. ‘Is there something bothering you?’

  ‘I had forgotten about Philip until now.’ She rubbed a temple as the memory of their awkward chaperoned luncheon last month came searing back.

  Frederick grinned. ‘Was he the one who monologued about hunting at his family’s estate in Scotland, or the one who drooled when he ate?’

  Marietta rubbed her temple harder. ‘I’m sure that he didn’t intend to drool. Perhaps he has some unfortunate affliction.’

  Frederick gave a sharp laugh. ‘I wouldn’t pay him a second thought. According to Geoffrey, Philip happens to be pursuing a handful of women in London, who are conveniently located closer to the Cambers’ Great House. I’m sure he’ll prove to be as short-lived as the rest of your suitors. Wasn’t it Henry Davenshire that proclaimed you “cold and unfeeling”?’

  ‘He was an utter bore.’ Marietta sighed. ‘Why is it that some men feel the need to insult women if we dare not be enthralled by them and their inconsequential pursuits?’

  ‘Pay them no heed, you are far more talented and generally splendid than the lot of them. So, what did you make of Drosselmeier?’

  ‘An interesting man indeed. Most talented; I’m sure everyone will be clamouring for one of his pieces once word spreads.’

  ‘Devilishly handsome, too.’ Frederick gave Marietta a pointed look.

  She pursed her lips. ‘I would be interested to speak more with him but that is the limit of my feelings on the matter.’ She patted her hair.

  ‘I do adore you, Ets, but you ought to be forbidden from styling your own hair. At the very least to save poor Sally from Mother’s criticism.’ Frederick strode over and began fiddling with it. ‘After dinner was a resounding success, I’m afraid Drosselmeier shall be Mother’s new target for her relentless matchmaking and undoubtedly a most frequent guest. Even Father seemed impressed with the man. Is that what’s preoccupying you? Your frown lines have been deepening by the minute since you stepped through the door.’

  Marietta realised he was right: as much as she had attempted to twist out of her fate, if she kept walking this path, it was inevitable. Her tentative plans hardened like a caramel glaze. ‘Frederick, I have decided to audition for the Nottingham Ballet Company.’

  Her brother sighed. ‘No good will come of this, Ets. Father explicitly ordered you to stop dancing come the new year. Once his mind is set on something, it cannot be altered. And since he covers the cost of your classes, not to mention your dresses, costumes and ballet slippers … Well, I just don’t see how it could be possible. And I won’t always be here to protect you from him.’

  ‘You forget I’m no longer a child, Frederick; I do not require your protection. Besides which, I have quite made up my mind.’

  Frederick repositioned her before the gilt mirror above the mantelpiece. Her raven hair had been reconfigured into an elegant low twist. She met his eyes in the mirror, the grey to her deep blue; if you blended them together like paint, they would forge the colour of storm clouds and misted seas. ‘Wouldn’t you have preferred to follow your dreams?’ she asked quietly, dipping into territory they avoided discussing.

  His hands slackened on her shoulders. ‘It’s dangerous to dream, Marietta. It will fill your head with tales sweet as sugarplums, until reality is nothing but disappointment.’

  Marietta sank onto the petal-blue chesterfield basking opposite the fire. They had picked it out together, the room’s one concession to modern aesthetics. ‘I disagree. Dreams hold power, and when one truly believes in them, it feels as if there isn’t anything on this earth you might not achieve.’

  Frederick frowned. ‘Do not go against Father.’ His voice was deep with warning. ‘An easy life married to someone like Drosselmeier in a grand house is not something to battle against. If you were caught disregarding his orders, you cannot comprehend what the consequences would be.’

  ‘I would have thought that you of all people would understand that nothing about that would be easy.’ Marietta regretted the impetuous words the instant they’d burst from her lips but she could no more bite them back than she could stop the rain hammering down the window.

  Frederick took several beats to respond. An uneasy silence neither of them were accustomed to settled between them. She was all too aware how unusual it was that her brother was her closest friend and entrusted keeper of her secrets, but that had been their way since they were children.

  It traced back to the moment Marietta had decided she would pen a letter to Pierina Legnani, prima ballerina assoluta, whom the young Marietta had just witnessed perform an astonishing thirty-two consecutive fouettés en tournant during her tour of Cinderella in London. Pierina’s dancing had brought resolution to her heart; she too would dance. In selecting the creamiest sheaf of paper on which to inform the ballerina of how much her performance had moved Marietta – set beside a pretty specimen of heliotrope pilfered from the garden – she had picked up her father’s most treasured fountain pen and placed it on the paper with enthusiasm. To her horror, the nib had shattered upon the page. Ten-year-old Frederick had borne the blame and punishment in her place. Her memories were still stained bloody with the crack of Theodore’s letter opener splitting open her brother’s knuckles.

  ‘Frederick—’ she began.

  ‘Our situations are entirely different; you cannot pretend to know how I—’ He stopped and cleared his throat roughly. ‘You are unaware of your own privilege, Marietta.’

  She pressed his hand. ‘I do know that. I am sorry. Truly, I am. I’m a hateful creature and you are free to despise me!’

  Frederick sat beside her. He patted her knee. ‘I could never despise you.’

  ‘I’m not afraid, Frederick. Being disinherited doesn’t give me sleepless nights. I would prefer it to being married off against my wishes. Even a man like Drosselmeier holds no attraction for me; am I to spend the rest of my days serving and smiling at him as I become a shadow of my former self? I could not bear such a thing.’ Marietta kept her voice hushed; the townhouse was crawling with spies, gossip the currency of choice. Frederick’s discomfort deepened. He fiddled with his necktie. ‘Frederick?’ Marietta sharpened her voice.

  ‘I don’t suppose you remember Lucy Fatherdale?’ he asked. ‘We picnicked with her and Geoffrey last spring on the banks of the Trent.’

  Marietta recalled the air had been scented with blossoms and grass and the ginger beer the men had drunk after rowing along the river. She had flung her hat onto the blanket, its ribbons trailing like a collapsed rainbow, and basked in the sunlight. Lucy, a
pretty, petite blonde, had laughed and dashed her own sunhat aside, declaring, ‘I doubt a few freckles will much change the course of events now!’

  ‘Of course I remember her. Geoffrey’s betrothed,’ she said now, pretending not to notice Frederick’s hand tighten on his knee. This was the other subject which they did not broach. Though Marietta knew of their true relationship, to everyone else, Geoffrey was merely an associate and friend of Frederick’s. They had met while studying for the same degree but Geoffrey had recently done what was expected of him and become engaged. Even though the siblings were close, this was one matter Marietta did not know how to ask her brother about and disliked to pry. ‘What of her?’

  ‘Well, Geoffrey informed me that her older cousin, Lola Castleton, eloped with a man she’d fallen wildly in love with: an acrobat with a travelling circus, if you can imagine that. It was all a rather torrid affair. Her family were incensed and mounted an effort to retrieve her at once. They hunted the pair down until they were discovered in a seedy bolthole just below the Scottish border. Her beau was beaten and left bloody. As I hear it, he’d be lucky to walk again, much less perform with a troupe.’

  ‘And Lola?’ Marietta whispered.

  ‘They were too late; She had already lost her reputation. Her father was incandescent with rage and had her committed.’

  Marietta’s blood chilled. ‘Surely you are not suggesting that our father would—’ She could not finish the thought.

  ‘I do not pretend to know what he would or wouldn’t do.’ Frederick’s whisper was pierced with anger. ‘Though I do know our father and he is not a man that would allow his authority to be questioned.’ He ran a finger over the scar that ran in a deep groove across the knuckles of his right hand. ‘You’ve witnessed plenty of his tempers for yourself. Do not cross him.’

  Marietta’s heart fluttered anxiously. She had been holding onto the thought of auditioning, guarding it, polishing it bright with wishing and hoping and longing until it gleamed like a pearl. Now that pearl felt lost in some fathomless ocean she didn’t know how to traverse.

  Frederick stood. ‘At least you shall be performing your Christmas ballet here. I’m still making inquiries into a suitable constructor for your set. The budget, or lack thereof, is proving to be a challenge but give me a little longer and I’m confident we’ll have someone. I can take photographs on my Sanderson for you as a keepsake if you’d like?’

  ‘Oh, I would treasure that. Thank you, Frederick,’ Marietta said quietly.

  She sat there long after Frederick had sauntered out. She stared at the moon, almost swept from the sky by the curtain of rain, yet refusing to relinquish its position; the brightest spark in the night. Taking heart from this, she crossed the room to their old writing desk and penned a letter, requesting an audition. She could not be a puppet in her own story; she must at least see if there might be another way for her. Then she sought out Sally.

  ‘See to it that this makes the post at first light.’ She handed the letter over.

  Sally nodded and tucked it into her apron. ‘Right you are, miss.’

  That night, Marietta dreamt of moons and pearls and wishes that shone harder and fiercer than all else.

  Chapter Seven

  In the week that followed, Drosselmeier brought light to their evenings as November drew to a close.

  On the following Tuesday, he brought a box wrapped in brown paper. Inside, there were rows of tin soldiers, nestled into the velvet lining. Frederick couldn’t resist setting them up in the name of nostalgia and they had marched around, all shiny black boots and vacant polished faces, until Jarvis announced dinner. The soldiers now stood in the cabinet, staring out at everyone as if they were plotting an invasion.

  On Wednesday, he joined them for afternoon tea and gifted Theodore an elaborate chess set with chequered squares that slid across to send unwitting opponents’ pieces plummeting to their end. It had already been the battleground of several matchings of wits between Theodore and Frederick. Marietta was tempted to indulge in a game herself but with the tension crescendoing between her and her father, she demurred at his challenge.

  On Thursday he had sent Ida her promised piece for the cabinet: a pair of silver candlesticks that hummed with his mechanisms, sending gold-winged bees flying around the petals that held lilac candles in place. When the candles were lit, the entire family dreamt of distant summers and the townhouse was perfumed with orange blossom and apricot tartlets.

  On Friday, there was another dinner, where Marietta was presented with a music box that opened to reveal a waltzing princess. A creature of cloud wisps and the pale blue of starling eggs, with a gown that frothed about her legs in as many layers as a mille-feuille. If one sang a short tune to her, a secret compartment for one’s most treasured jewels snapped open and Marietta was rather delighted by it.

  The whole family had been enchanted by Drosselmeier as if he had bewitched them, yet each time Marietta exclaimed over his marvellous inventions, mechanised toys and pretty trinkets, she was unable to stop imagining the consequences that might arise from their shared dinners, seeing herself sealed in a specimen box with a label that read, simply, uxorem, her identity reduced to a single word.

  Wife.

  After a gruelling rehearsal of the Rose Adagio, where she had spent an inordinate period of time balanced on a single pointe, maintaining her position as she rested a hand on Aurora’s suitors, one at a time, Marietta’s toes were blistered and bloodied and she desired nothing more than to submerge herself in hot water. When she returned to her room, Sally handed her a thick envelope. An inky stamp over the seal betrayed its origins.

  ‘I thought it best to give this directly to you, miss,’ Sally whispered, her eyes flitting from one wall to another, as if they were watching her.

  ‘You thought right; thank you, Sally. Now, I would be most appreciative if you could draw me a bath.’ Marietta waited until her lady’s maid had scurried into the adjoining bathroom to open the envelope. Her fingers trembled and the paper sliced into her knuckle. A bead of blood fled down the writing, leaving a scarlet shadow.

  You have been successful in requesting an audience with The Nottingham Ballet Company. Your audition will be held on the first of December, at four o’clock. Please arrive in a prompt fashion.

  Marietta closed her eyes, relief and vexation intermingling, needling her mood into a spiky, querulous creature. It hadn’t escaped her that she was improving at the challenging variation. Enough for it to make a formidable audition performance. Yet, although she had secured herself an audition, with Miss Mary Worthers glued to her affairs, she was no closer to being able to attend it. She committed the letter to memory before feeding it to the fire, watching the words flame with all the brilliance of a jar of sweets. All too soon, they flaked to ash. She could almost taste the lingering smoke and imagined her own melancholia carried the same bitter tang. She instructed Sally to shake half a jar of pink bath salts into her clawfoot tub and was on the verge of disrobing when Frederick knocked at her door, announcing his presence.

  She sighed. ‘Can this wait? I’m having a bath drawn.’

  ‘What a delight you are tonight,’ he said, strolling in and settling himself on her chaise longue, one berry-red shoe resting on a pin-striped knee. He slung a matching pin-striped elbow onto her favourite cushion; hand-stitched black velvet and antique silk with a lace border. Frederick had purchased it for her during a stroll through the Lace Market during the May he had become enamoured with the notion of incorporating lacework into his paintings. They’d wandered arm in arm through the oldest part of Nottingham, now the epicentre of the world’s lace industry, perusing the showrooms and lingering over cream cakes in the corner of a bakery. How distant that day seemed to Marietta now. That very evening, Theodore had summoned her to his study to inform her that after she had seen the year out, she would not be continuing with her dance studio. ‘Prancing about the stage is a pastime for children; it is not befitting of a woman in her twe
nties,’ he had told her with the finality of death. And Marietta had grieved.

  ‘Thank you, Sally; that will be all.’ Marietta turned to her brother. ‘I was under the impression that you were staying late at the courthouse today.’

  Frederick kneaded his forehead with a knuckle. ‘Father was being particularly pompous; listening to him gave me the most frightful headache. I slipped out early for a drink with Geoffrey. I know, I have not a shadow of doubt I’ll regret it bitterly later—’ he pulled a face, warding off Marietta’s interjection ‘ —but it did lead me to a rather serendipitous encounter.’

  ‘Is this tale going to be as long as your beloved Paradise Lost?’ Marietta crossed her arms over her cream silk robe, her hair in two curtains down to her waist. ‘I have yet to eat and my toes are bleeding.’

  Frederick eyed her feet, clad in satin slippers, warily. ‘Take a seat, I have a feeling you’ll be wanting to hear this.’ His shoe tapped against his knee, measuring the beat to which his enthusiasm marched. ‘You asked me some time ago if I knew of anyone who might be willing to construct a set for your Christmas production.’

  Marietta sat on her window seat. It was cold beneath her silk and she shivered with anticipation. ‘Am I to understand that you’ve found someone?’

  ‘Not only did I find someone, I have found someone who will craft the most exquisite, wondrous set you’ve ever dreamt of.’ Frederick spread his hands like a magician’s reveal.

  Her irritableness melted away. ‘Are you serious, Freddie?’

  ‘When have I ever been less than serious?’ He winked. ‘Now you shall have the finest stage in all of England for your swan song. And I have been given assurance that it will even possess …’ he paused for effect ‘… moving parts!’

  ‘Oh, do you mean to tell me what I think you’re implying?’ Marietta clapped her hands together in delight. ‘However did you persuade Drosselmeier to take on such a task?’