I told myself that I would ask him later, maybe when the party had dwindled down and the embers in the fire had died.
“For me?” I asked as my trembling hands slowly slid the gift from his grasp.
His continued smile and insistent nod were his only reply.
Turning, I lowered the box to a nearby table and carefully removed the bright red bow from around it. What had he made me? Over the years, Uncle Drosselmeyer had made me a writing desk, a finely crafted paddle brush—adorned with a lovely painting of a bloomed rose—and a beautiful music box with a lullaby from my childhood. As I lifted the lid, I found myself staring at a finely-crafted nutcracker.
He was the loveliest piece of art I had ever seen.
Chapter 4
My Nutcracker, I thought.
He was most certainly a General with his shiny, red coat. The paint and layer of varnish glistened in the candlelight, reflecting the sheen of the smart ensemble. Tufts of white hair curled from underneath his black hat, and just below his grinning mouth. His eyes were bright blue with large eyebrows. My fingers traced over him as I lifted my gaze to Uncle Drosselmeyer.
“Did you make this for me?”
A sparkle of mischief and a flash of gold glistened in his eye as he rose to his feet.
“Do you know what a nutcracker represents?”
“Aren’t they just used for walnuts and such?”
Uncle Drosselmeyer shook his head with a chuckle and carefully lifted the nutcracker from the box.
“Legends say the nutcracker represents strength and power. It serves to protect its owner from evil spirits… and danger.”
“Danger?” I asked, wrinkling my nose as I flashed a teasing smile. “I don’t foresee myself in any danger, Uncle.”
“Danger lurks around every corner,” he said with a cryptic nod as his eye widened. “This nutcracker will serve you well.”
Slowly, he pushed the shiny nutcracker into my arms.
“Merry Christmas, moya devushka,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Uncle Drosselmeyer hugged me tightly and pressed a soft kiss against my temple. As he released me, I turned my gaze back to the nutcracker in my arms. His curled, white hair was soft against my fingers as I traced over his features again. His face, while square and strange, almost resembled a man’s face. His mouth was wide, with bright white teeth.
Suddenly, Fritz, with his freckled cheeks, came to stand beside me, darting his gaze to the gleaming nutcracker in my arms.
“Oh, look! It’s the missing Commander!” His eager fingers sought to take the nutcracker from me.
“He is not your Commander, Fritz,” I argued as I lifted him above my head. “He’s my gift.”
“But my soldiers still need a leader! He’s perfect! What good will he do for you? Aren’t you a little old for dolls?”
I glared at Fritz and shook my head.
“A nutcracker isn’t a doll, Fritz,” I replied. Beside me, the sound of Lord Yakov clearing his throat startled me. Him again.
“Perhaps the next dance, then?” he asked, extending his hand out to me. As my gaze darted between my eager brother and Lord Yakov, I found myself nodding to the both of them quickly and walking away from them before I lost both my Christmas gift and my sanity.
My bravery led me to clutch my nutcracker closer to my chest and force a smile to the passersby as I excused myself from the parlor room. If I had been as daring as Masha, I would have directly refused Lord Yakov’s offer to dance. But I knew from the look I had seen in my father’s eye earlier, such a match would have been smiled upon. I would be seen as a success as much as Masha was in agreeing to marry Lord Andrei. I slipped through the dancing hall, into one of the darkened servant’s halls.
Viscount Yakov Petrayaev would certainly never dare enter such an unworthy part of the house.
Sliding against the wall, I sank to the floor and nestled my nutcracker in the red fabric of my gown. Exhaling slowly, I peered at the wooden gift, brushing my fingers through the matted hair of his beard. There was something about him. Something that reminded me of a long ago dream I had once had as a child. A magical snow that tasted as sweet as sugar.
“Clara?” A voice echoed in the hallway as the sound of footsteps followed. I froze in place, holding the nutcracker tightly against me. If it was my father, I knew I’d be asked to go back to Lord Yakov and apologize for my bad manners.
“Clara? What are you doing on the floor?”
The dark silhouette became clearer, transforming into Anton. His face was concerned, and I felt his blue eyes sweep over me to assure himself that I was not hurt or ill. He was tall while I was standing, but with my position on the floor he towered over me, and I rushed to push myself to my feet, my voice breaking over my explanation.
I was suddenly aware of how alone we were.
My heart thumped. No one else was around. I swallowed hard, afraid of being found.
“No, no… stay…I didn’t mean to startle you.” He lifted his hand as he gestured to the spot beside me. “May I?”
“Won’t Uncle Drosselmeyer wonder where you are?” I asked, looking at once to the darkened hallway behind him. Anton did not seem to mind our current situation.
“Won’t your Lord Yakov wonder the same about you?” he asked with an amused smile as he lowered himself beside me on the floor. He was horrible for teasing me, really. But the instant his arm brushed against my own, I forgot my irritation entirely.
“He’s not my Lord Yakov,” I explained.
Anton pointed to the nutcracker in my lap, seemingly allowing the topic of Lord Yakov to disappear. “I see he gave you the nutcracker.”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “He’s quite remarkably made.”
Anton grinned and lifted his hand slowly toward my gift. “May I see him?”
I shyly handed the nutcracker to his waiting embrace.
I felt silly beside him, like one of the giggling girls who fawned over one of the handsome lords of the Russian court. I wanted to be closer to him, tucked into his side where I could curl my arms around his. It was new to me, the desire in wanting to be so close when I had never been alone with a man outside of my family. Perhaps it was intimacy of the hallway and the newness of my uncle’s protégé that made it feel romantic.
Earlier, during the performance, I had seen something in him that made my heart ache.
Now that we were together, a hidden part of me was glad to have him alone. If my fate was to be sealed to Lord Yakov, then I could always look back on this time with Anton. A time when I had sat with a handsome young man in the frozen silence of a hallway, uninterrupted by responsibilities or silly dances. I wanted to remember the way his hands felt, how rough they were from whittling away in a workshop, or how he smelled of snow and spruce needles.
I let myself press into his side, shoulder to shoulder.
“A great soldier,” Anton admired as he turned the nutcracker round and round. “It seems only fitting that you should have him in your care. He is an honorable protector.”
I sighed, tilting my head toward Anton. I felt the tips of his hair tickle my ear.
“Do you think I’m a little old for such things?” I asked softly. I turned my head an inch, nearly brushing my nose against his. His blue eyes were bright and, as he breathed, I could taste him on my lips.
“A nutcracker isn’t a children’s toy,” Anton whispered, shaking his head. “A nutcracker is the passing of good luck from one person to another. Perhaps the Nutcracker himself would say differently, but…” He paused and sighed, pressing the back of his head against the wall. “Do you know the story of the Nutcracker?”
I had been so preoccupied by our moment that the question sounded strange to me at first. The Nutcracker had a story? Hadn’t Uncle Drosselmeyer told me something once about a puppet? It had been many years ago, but I could recall bits and pieces.
“You might remember it differently.” he said.
“I know the tale of the puppet-master,” I replied hesitantly, “who served a great king many years ago. The king’s daughter was placed under a curse after being bitten by a large mouse.”
Anton’s burst of laughter startled me.
“A horribly large mouse,” he said between tears. “But yes, the tale of the puppet-master.”
“The king ordered the puppet-master and his apprentice to find a way to break the curse. As it was, only a special sort of nut was the cure,” I explained as Anton continued to nod.
Had Uncle Drosselmeyer told him the same tale? No one else I had ever known recalled this story. Not even Papa, and he had grown up on the same stories I had when he was a young boy.
“The two of them took counsel with many wise men of the court,” Anton interjected.
“They sought to find answers in the stars and sky. After several days, their journey led them far and wide to another distant kingdom where they, at last, found the remedy. The puppet-master and his apprentice raced back to the castle with the cursed princess and struggled to break open the shell. It wasn’t until the apprentice himself took the nut into his mouth and bit into it—” Anton opened the mouth of the nutcracker and quickly shut it, clanking the wooden pieces together, “—releasing the cure from inside, like the pearl in an oyster, as it were. He took seven steps to the princess, sliding it between her two chapped lips, and then carefully took seven steps back. On the seventh step—”
“He stepped on the large mouse,” I answered and looked to the nutcracker with amused eyes. I had almost forgotten the tale.
Anton knocked his knees into mine to encourage me to finish, but I blushed and shook my head instead. I should have ended the game we were playing and return to the party.
But Anton continued, “It turned out that the large mouse had once actually been a king. He bit the apprentice, and he was turned into a nutcracker.”
It all felt like a dream. A dream I had once delighted in dwelling in as a child.
“It seems Drosselmeyer shared his tale with us both,” Anton chuckled.
“Many years ago,” I sighed and looked down at pieces of the white, frilly lace on the skirt of my dress. Anton snapped the mouth again and slowly slid the nutcracker back into my lap, careful not to touch me this time.
“Uncle Drosselmeyer told me a nutcracker protects its owner from danger,” I said as I flashed a tentative smile at Anton.
“He’s right,” he replied with a nod.
“I feel as though I’ve seen this nutcracker before… like in a dream.” Wrinkling my brow, I shook my head. “It sounds foolish.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I haven’t thought of that story in so long.” I lifted the nutcracker from my lap and gazed at it closely. “Poor Nutcracker.”
“Oh?” Anton looked curiously at me.
“To think of the poor man who only tried to save a princess. . . and end up as a wooden toy for the rest of eternity.”
Anton nodded silently.
“I cannot imagine the pain he must go through, day in and day out, cracking all of those nuts.”
Anton lifted a hand to his jaw and grimaced, almost as if he too could remember a time of such pain.
“I would be so angry,” I whispered, no longer teasing as I lifted my gaze for a moment. “And now to be owned by such a reckless girl.”
“I doubt he thinks of you in such a way,” he replied, shaking his head. “Perhaps his curse has left him in a perpetual state of sleeping. Caught between the divide of dreaming and waking, a place where dreams dissolve into nothingness. Perhaps it is there, in that strange, dreamless state, he lives; awaiting his chance to finally awaken.”
“Oh, Anton,” I frowned, “That is a bittersweet end for our hero.”
I felt his eyes on me, watching carefully. “Not an end, Clara. All curses can eventually be broken.”
“Do you think so?” I asked, hoping his words were true. I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about my long-ago dream of a faraway land. Of the boy who held my hand in the sugary, soft snow. “A curse, like the one about the sleeping lady? She slept for hundreds of years before a kiss woke her.”
“Of course I do,” he replied and chuckled. “Poor fellow. To sleep for hundreds of years and only be in need of a kiss.”
“I could kiss his cheek now,” I remarked as a warmth covered my cheeks. “To see if it is a kiss he needs.”
A hint of amusement glistened in Anton’s eyes as he gestured toward the nutcracker in my lap.
“There can only be one way of knowing.”
“And if he is asleep?”
“A presumed missed opportunity. Of course, when he awakens, I’d hope he’d feel mortified for missing the occasion of being kissed by such a beautiful woman.”
As I lifted the nutcracker to my face, I couldn’t stop myself from keeping my eyes glued to Anton’s. He watched closely, a small, playful smile on his lips. But there was something in his expression that caught me; a clench in his jaw. Anticipation. I slowly lowered the nutcracker and shook my head.
“. . . I was quite young when Uncle Drosselmeyer told me that story. I’m certainly not a child, and I don’t believe in such stories. This nutcracker is merely a nutcracker. There’s nothing magical about him.”
“How can you be so sure?” Anton whispered. He was close again, I felt his breath crest over my ear, and it sent my skin into gooseflesh. “We both know that your uncle is quite a mysterious and majestic sort of man. Perhaps this is the very Nutcracker from the story.”
“He also knows how to cheer a sad, lonely girl,” I answered, shaking my head.
“Why were you so sad and lonely? Surely, as a Stahlbaum…”
“As a Stahlbaum?” I lifted a brow and waited for his silly assumption about me to emerge from his lips. Of course, how could a well-off girl such as myself be sad and lonely? Did I not have everything I had ever desired? I had even been gifted with a good, however brief, education.
“What I mean is…” Anton fumbled, sliding a hand through his disheveled hair. “You must have had many friends growing up. There are certainly a large group of people in the other room to testify to your family’s popularity.”
“Popularity and true friendship are two different things.”
“True,” he agreed softly. “I apologize. I spoke before I should have.”
Lifting a hand, he held it out to me. I had never been offered a hand upon introduction to a man—it was not commonly done. But here, Anton treating me as though I were an equal despite my sex, was refreshing and a relief.
“Would you allow me the honor of calling you my friend, Clara? A true friend.”
As I stared at his offered hand, I felt my heart fill with a familiar heaviness—the same I felt the night I dreamt of the young boy who wished to take me to his magical kingdom. There was a sense of belonging.
I shook his hand firmly. “Only if you dance with me,” I asserted with a smile.
“A dance? With me?”
“Don’t tell me that Uncle Drosselmeyer didn’t prepare you for dancing.”
Anton chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not. I was merely here for the preparation of his automations.”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing as I rose to my feet and placed the nutcracker beside the wall. Anton pushed himself up and looked at me with large, wide eyes.
“Here,” I offered, taking his warm hand in mine. “Place your left hand here.” I guided his hand to my waist. There was slight shock as his hand touched me. A thrilling current that shot down the length of my back. As music trickled into the hallway, Anton began to clumsily waltz, making large, awkward circles around the enclosed space. I could barely keep myself from laughing.
“I haven’t stepped on your feet yet, have I?” His eyes searched mine, as if looking for someone familiar.
“I’m sure if you do, I’ll laugh even more.”
“You’re quite unkind about my dancing,” he teased, chuckling. “I’m rusty.�
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“Rusty?” I giggled as he twirled me into a small circle.
Finally, to his relief, I’m sure, the music came to an end and we were left leaning against each other, laughing breathlessly. In the distant room of the house, I could hear the ringing of the great-grandfather clock; it was midnight.
“Merry Christmas, Clara,” Anton whispered as he lifted the nutcracker from the floor and handed him to me. “I should go find your uncle. I’m sure he’ll wish for me to unpack his things. It’s gotten rather late.”
“Y-Yes,” I stuttered with a small nod, straightening my skirt to hide the tremble in my fingers. “The party will be over soon.”
“Indeed,” he replied and gave a polite bow. “Thank you for the entertaining evening.”
Just as he turned on his heel to leave, he glanced over his shoulder at me. “It might be too forward of me to ask…” I tilted my head curiously and waited. He sighed and his smile was crooked and unsure, “Perhaps we could take a walk in the garden tomorrow?”
I smiled warmly and nodded, “Yes, Anton. I would like that very much.”
“Khorosho,” he agreed and disappeared into the dancing room.
Chapter 5
Only a few minutes later, I reappeared in the drawing room, finding Lord Yakov, Masha, and Lord Andrei gathered around a few of the chairs. They were sipping on another selection of countless wine glasses. I moved quickly to my mother’s cabinet, my skirt brushing up against the back of the chairs nearby.
Mother filled her cabinet with her most treasured china and Venetian glass. I slipped the Nutcracker behind a few of the dinner plates, hoping they would protect him from the hands of my brother or curious servants.
Silently promising to return, I closed the glass doors. As I meandered back to the small group, Lord Yakov glanced up at me, a brow raised in surprise.
“Have you decided to join us at last, Lady Clara?”
“Surely, Lord Yakov,” Masha began, eyeing him carefully, “you don’t wish to spoil the last moments of the party with your jesting.”
Lord Andrei lifted his wine glass with a soft chuckle, cutting a quick glance toward Lord Yakov. I could see the hidden message between the two—‘let the women have their way.’
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