The Nutcracker Reimagined: A Collection of Christmas Tales

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  She leaned against the wall and clutched a closed fist to her chest as her heart raced. Never in her life had she felt so excited and strange at the same time. This side of her was new, and she couldn’t explain an ounce of what was going on.

  It certainly couldn’t have been Andrew… could it? He was a dashing man. Handsome, and that brogue… His accent was thick, but one glance into those blue eyes and it didn’t matter how the words came out. His son would turn out to be just as tall and handsome too. He’d make his father proud someday.

  Why, oh why was she prattling on with something so inconsequential when she had a table to set?

  Joining the maid in setting the table, her uncle Duncan attended them and tapped her on the arm when he came to her side.

  “My dear, would you join me outside for a bit of air? I always loved the brisk English air in December.”

  “Certainly, sir. Allow me to fetch my cloak.”

  Clara returned after a moment and followed her uncle outdoors. The night sky enveloped them as they followed the brightly lit lanterns along the path toward her father’s stables. A slight chill crept down her neck from a gust of wind that caught them both by surprise.

  “Brrr… That was a cool one. At least the stables will provide us some shelter from the wind,” her uncle said as he took her arm and tucked it into his as they walked inside.

  Uncle Duncan must have had the need to speak to her in private. Why else would he invite her to join him outdoors now, and so close before dinner?

  “Ah!” he had spotted a bale of hay and waved her over to join him.

  “I see you’ve found us a cozy spot, Uncle Duncan.”

  “Indeed, and the view of your beautiful mare couldn’t be better.”

  Clara grinned. Her mare was quite the exquisite creature and had been a birthday gift two summers ago.

  She faced her uncle with a quizzical brow. “Why on Earth are we all the way in the stables, Uncle? Could we not have had a conversation within the warmth of Papa’s den?”

  “We could have, but then everyone would be curious as to what we were talking about.”

  “They’ll be pondering just the same when we return indoors for dinner.”

  “True.” His voice trailed off, and he smiled the largest grin. “My dear, in the short few hours I’ve been in your house, I’ve noticed something different in my nephew.”

  Clara leaned back with her lips pressed together and her eyes widened. “I have no idea what you speak of, sir. Today was the first time I have ever met him.”

  Her uncle rose from the bale and strode toward the horse and petted her.

  “My nephew has been in mourning for two years now. Normally, men would have taken a new bride in under a year. I can’t explain what his apprehension was, but since taking over the lands, I am aware he’s been quite overwhelmed with responsibilities. I’m certain a wife could help balance the weight on his shoulders. Yet, no one has turned his head until now. You seem to be different. I’ve no idea if it was the way you cared for his son this afternoon, or if it is a plain physical reaction to your natural beauty, but I suspect he’ll be speaking to your father before the holiday is out.”

  Her heart beat hard and fast, the rhythm loud and clear in her ears. “What do you suppose about?”

  Duncan moved forward and crouched down before her and took her hands into his. “By my estimation, I gather he will ask your father’s permission to court you with the intent of marrying you.”

  She gasped. “You cannot be serious! I’ve only just met him.” While the thought of courting him wasn’t so horrible, she could hardly imagine her uncle was speaking to her about marriage already. Couldn’t he have waited until after Christmas?

  “My dear, sometimes a person can develop feelings or gain sound instinct with a person naturally. You would make him a fine wife one day, and an even better mother for little Alec. I propose that if such an offer is put forth that you consider it.”

  Clara was taken aback by her uncle’s remarks. Could she ever fancy herself a laird’s wife? She’d have to move away from all of this… her mama and papa. One brother was gone, and it was simply a matter of time before the other took a wife and perhaps carried on the business.

  Was she truly ready to become head of her own household and have children? What about her reading, and who would care for her father’s accounts with the business? It really was too much to consider at a moment like this.

  Her uncle coughed and rose from his haunches. “We best be getting indoors. The wind is beginning to howl, and I suspect it will get a might worse before the night is out.”

  She nodded and took his arm. They followed the light of the lanterns as their boots crunched in the hard snow. Their pace quickened as the deep chill seeped into their bones. Lord, it would take her a quarter hour to warm by the fire before dinner at this rate.

  When they finally reached the door, a servant waited for them and took their cloaks.

  “Excellent timing, Phillip.” Clara stuttered from the cold air still enveloped around her. “I hope dinner has not been served yet?”

  “No, miss, but very soon. Let me get you both something to warm you up by the fire.”

  Her uncle followed her into the parlor where everyone conversed in a circle to one corner of the room. She spotted Andrew within an instant, conversing with her brother. He then looked up and their gazes held for a second until someone touched her arm.

  “There you both are, Clara. Where in heaven’s name did you go?” her mother asked with concern.

  “Uncle Duncan wanted to see how big my mare was, so we headed to the stables for a quick glance.”

  Her father grinned and she assumed she knew exactly why her uncle sequestered her away briefly. She shifted her attention again to Andrew who remained deep in conversation with her brother.

  A few moments later, Phillip came to her side with a hot cup of tea. She took it, but before she could thank him, the servant slipped away and rather quickly. Clara headed to the chair near the fireplace and then sipped on her tea while looking into the fire. It really was so mesmerizing to behold the flames dance around joyfully. Bright red and orange with flashes of yellow, and to think that Prometheus had been punished by the gods for sharing such a gift with mortals.

  She had no idea how much time had passed since she sat down, her uncle’s conversation from the stables repeating in her head, but she came to a start when Andrew crouched down next to her and tapped her knee. The jolt of shock sent her tea cup sailing to the floor spilling on the lovely Moroccan rug her father had recently acquired.

  “Oh no!”

  “Clara, dinner is being served. Head on in and I’ll let a servant know of the accident.”

  “Are you sure? Where is the little one? He should be with you at dinner, no?”

  Andrew smiled. “He is still with your mother, if you can imagine. They’ve been glued to each other all afternoon. Run along now.” His eyes were soft and his voice so full of restrained emotion.

  One look at the man and she couldn’t remember even how to talk.

  Andrew watched as the sleepy woman walked toward the dining room, figuring she hadn’t been asleep for very long when everyone barged into her room earlier looking for his son. He smiled remembering how adorable they looked lying there together.

  Before she had woken up hours ago, he took a moment to appreciate her beautifully formed lips. He wondered what they’d taste like. Sweet like berries and cream, or would they rope him in like a siren at sea with soft words and tender, chaste kisses. Never in his five and thirty years had he been so drawn to a woman. Clara was an enigma for a fine and proper young lady. If she only knew how much charm she held over him.

  After approaching a servant to inform them of the spill, Andrew joined the family in the dining room as the food was being served and took the open seat across from Clara who sat next to her brother. It had been sometime since he enjoyed a family meal, or a holiday for that matter. Having inherited h
is father’s land’s, he was beginning to spend a great deal of time away from home, and at the end of the day, when he stayed at one of the empty cottages, he preferred the solitude. There was something so profoundly different about taking meals and spending the holidays with friends and family—a concept he didn’t know very much about, but enjoyed nonetheless.

  She kept looking up at him from time to time and smiled while he returned the favor, and when her brother began regaling tales from the battle front, she elbowed Frederick to remind him of his manners. Alec, who sat with Mrs. Sedgewick, was completely enraptured with Frederick’s tales and expressions, so much so he wriggled out of her arms, landing on the floor, and then climbed onto Clara’s lap.

  Her expression warmed the instant Alec rose his arms to be picked up. No sooner than the child was in her lap, he reached out to her plate grabbing a fist full of potatoes.

  Heat raced to Andrew’s cheeks with embarrassment. Everyone including Clara had laughed and continued on eating. Children would be children.

  “I can see he has a healthy appetite, Andrew.” Clara chided him jokingly.

  “That he does. If you want, I can have the nurse retrieve him and feed him away from the adults.”

  She waved him off. “Nonsense. He’s fine where he is, though I do think he’ll be needing a bath once he is done.”

  “Agreed.”

  Her father coughed a short breath and began to pound on his chest. Andrew shifted his attention to the man. It was a clear as day that Mr. Sedgewick was in distress. The coloring from his cheeks faded from being rosy from brandy to pale as muslin.

  “Sir, you look unwell. How can I be of assistance?”

  He rose from his seat and swiftly made his way to the man’s aid, and in just the nick of time too. By the time he reached Mr. Sedgewick, the man began to tug at his neckcloth.

  “Someone fetch the doctor.”

  “I will!” Uncle Duncan shouted, nearly toppling the chair over to run for his cloak.

  Clara’s mother came to her husband’s side and shouted for their male servants. Andrew turned his head back to discern Clara’s wellbeing. She had clutched onto his son and was visibly pale from the shock.

  “Quickly! Someone help me carry him to bed.” Andrew commanded.

  He and another servant lifted him and carried him upstairs, setting him down on the bed. Making quick work of removing his neck cloth and jacket, the best thing he could do for the man was make him comfortable.

  “Water… water. I need something to drink.” Mr. Sedgewick pleaded in between heavy breaths. He turned to face the servant, who immediately ran out of the room to fetch the man something to wet his parched lips.

  Andrew prayed silently that this holiday wouldn’t be tarnished with the memory of this man’s illness. A moment later, the servant returned with a pitcher and goblet and passed them to him.

  “Please have my nurse take Alec to bed and see to Mrs. Sedgewick and Clara. I will stay here until the doctor arrives.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  He pressed the goblet to the man’s lips and held it steadily. Mr. Sedgewick sipped on the water and pushed away the cup.

  “Andrew… Should anything happen to me,” he whispered low and hoarse, “you have my permission to court and marry my daughter.” He paused and swallowed hard and spoke even lower this time. “I planned to leave Clara my estate and business, as the boys have no interest in such enterprises. I trust that you will treat her with care.”

  How on Earth did the man know of his intentions? Was he that transparent with his feelings toward Clara?

  “As you wish, sir. Although, I’d like you to rest for a while. The doctor should be arriving soon enough, and I’d like to think he would much rather you rest instead of pondering such things.”

  The man waved him off like nothing was wrong. “I’ll be fine. It was nothing more than indigestion.”

  “If only I was convinced of that, sir. Have you had these troubles before? You clutched at your chest, which makes me think you may have had an attack of sorts with your heart.”

  Mr. Sedgewick patted his leg. “I’ll be fine and I hope you will convey my wishes to Mrs. Sedgewick after the physician arrives. You know… in the event things take a turn for the worst. Bah! I’m feeling weak as a kitten right now, lad.”

  Andrew had a bad feeling he shouldn’t let the man fall asleep yet. “Sir, tell me how I can make you more comfortable. I’d like to keep you alert until you’ve been inspected.”

  “Honestly, man. I will be right as rain soon enough, but if you could give me a hand with my sleeping gown, I would be grateful. My wife has hung it in the corner over by the door.”

  Andrew complied. Anything to keep the man awake. The physician couldn’t arrive soon enough. He strode toward the door where the gown was tucked away behind it and returned to Mr. Sedgewick’s side. The man had attempted to pull off his shirt, but had no strength.

  Andrew sat on the bed and pulled the fabric of his shirt up and carefully removed his arms first before sliding the garment up his neck until it was off. Mr. Sedgewick’s flesh had a grayish tinge speckling down his face and onto his chest, but some color was beginning to return. Andrew had heard that a mild cardiac attack would do such a thing from some of his village elders, but he was no physician and knew not the truth of these matters.

  “Sir, if you’re able to, undo your trousers and I shall endeavor to assist you so you’re more comfortable.”

  The man nodded and barely managed to accomplish the simple task. He then pulled them off and drew down the gown to cover him as much as possible, and then covered him with his blanket.

  Once Mr. Sedgewick was comfortable, Andrew couldn’t help but pace the room. How he wished Clara’s father would make a full recovery.

  “Andrew,” Mr. Sedgewick coughed. “Come and sit next to me so that we can talk a bit while we still have some measure of privacy.”

  He acquiesced though he wished the man would conserve his energy.

  “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been eyeing my daughter. If you have anything to say, might I suggest now be the time.”

  Nerves fluttered about in his belly like he was a young lass. What sort of man had these feelings of fancy? Andrew pulled up a chair and leaned closer to the bed.

  “Please do conserve your energy, sir. At least until the doctor has examined you.” He paused and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what Clara would look like as a bride. “It is my every intention to offer for her, sir. She does deserve a courtship of some kind.”

  “Of course she does; however, if my condition worsen, I would still love to see her married off before the devil takes me. You already have my consent, and I would agree to a swift planning of the nuptials. Would you inform her of our brief agreement and have my wife summon my solicitor?”

  Andrew nodded and sat back in his chair, quietly observing Clara’s father rest until the door swung open. In came the physician and Mr. Sedgewick’s brother-in-law.

  “How is he doing?” the doctor asked with urgency.

  “He only just closed his eyes. He seems well, for someone who might have had a mild attack, but I will leave you to your privacy.”

  Andrew wandered down the hall to his room, closing the door behind him. He opened the door of the adjoining room where his son would be with the nurse and found them both sleeping, so he closed the door gently and returned to a chair at his bed side.

  He tried to sit, but he had Mr. Sedgewick’s permission to wed his daughter. The excitement he tried to contain made him want to burst. Andrew didn’t want to feel the joy at such a time considering all that had passed with her father, but if Mr. Sedgewick made a full recovery, there was much joy to be had this holiday. He wanted to go and find her, pick her up into his arms and reassure her all would be well, but she was surely distressed over her father’s health.

  As swiftly as the thought entered his mind, he left his quarters to find her. She deserved to know her father was resting and
being seen by the physician, but perhaps he would stick his head back in the room briefly for an update.

  Upon returning to Mr. Sedgewick’s room, he found the doctor conversing with Frederick.

  “Ah! There you are, Andrew,” Frederick exclaimed with a smile.

  “How is he?”

  “He will make a full recovery, I believe. It was a mild attack, but Mr. Sedgewick will need to refrain from indulging with spirits and perhaps sweets. I will return tomorrow afternoon to check on him.”

  “That is most excellent news, sir. Allow me to see you out,” Andrew added by following the physician downstairs.

  As he watched as the doctor got his greatcoat on, movement stirred beyond the corner of his eye.

  “Thank you for getting here when you did, sir.”

  “You are most welcome. Mr. Sedgewick will be up and moving about soon enough. I’m sure he’ll want to help you with those arrangements he whispered about during his examination. I’m quite surprised at how alert he was and eager to talk about things.”

  Andrew smiled and opened the door for him.

  “I wish you a good evening, sir, and a Merry Christmas.”

  “The same to you, Laird Cameron.”

  Andrew turned around and found Frederick waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’m so glad Pa will make a full recovery. I will check in on dad on my way to bed then.” Frederick paused before ascending the stairs. “Thank you, Andrew.”

  He nodded and leaned against the door. Had it been Clara that had been listening in on him and the physician? He was soon to find out.

  Chapter Five

  Clara paced to and fro in front of the fire, which now began to dwindle. A shiver licked up her spine as she watched the trees in the courtyard sway against the wind. The howling sounds made the shutters on the windows creak, and she couldn’t shake the odd feeling someone was shadowing her. She didn’t bother confirming her suspicions as her mind was obviously occupied with her father’s condition.