Clara wakes to the chime of the grandfather clock in the
hall. Seven times the bell tolls, its four note song rings through the old
home. Clara can faintly hear the horses whinny in the coach house. She sits up
and looks out the window. A layer of frost coats the glass, but the white light
of the sun reflecting off the snow still fills Clara’s room with a soft glow.
She swings her legs around and slips her feet into her soft pink slippers.
Clara’s long white-blonde hair cascades towards the floor,
she looks to her closet and sees her red Christmas dress waiting for her.
Everything is set out. Her hair ribbons are draped over the back of a chair.
Her wash table has a fresh basin of water on it. Any moment now…
A mousey voice calls through the door, as small firm fingers
rap on the hard wood.
“Miss
Clara! Time to get up, poppet. It is Christmas Eve, my darling, and you have a
big day ahead of you.”
“I’m up,
Madame!” Clara’s soft voice calls back, she grabs a robe just as a voluminous woman,
dressed in servants’ clothes and with a wreath of holly on her graying head,
backs in holding a tray with Clara’s medicine on it.
“Oh, Miss
Clara!” she sets the tray down on the side table by the door. “You haven’t even
brushed your hair yet! Silly child, your family will be waiting at the table.
Cook has made an excellent breakfast for Christmas Eve!”
“I’m
coming.” Clara wraps her robe around her thin frame, barely old enough to wear
a corset, yet she already has such grace and carriage. Madame looks fondly on
the young girl as Clara skips down the hall.
Clara runs excitedly into the dining hall. The large table
is laid out with oatmeal and thick cream, fruit and bacon, and so many more
delicious foods. Clara scurries to her seat, a set of silver dishes sit, clean
and waiting for her to fill them. Then the door on the opposite end of the room
opens.
“Momma!
Pappa!”
“Merry
Christmas, darling!” her father scoops her up in his strong arms. The three of
them hug each other tight for a moment, and when the Duke lets go of his
daughter they all go to the table, ready to eat.
“We have a
surprise for you, Clara.” The Duchess says, wiping a little orange juice from
the corner of her lip.
“What is
it?” Clara’s blue eyes grow wide, and she sits up straighter in her chair,
hoping that if she acted really good her parents would give her the surprise.
“You’ll
see.” Her father tempts, looking at the clock. “Actually you can find out if
you just wait one more minute.” He holds up one finger and eyes the clock,
7:29.
Clara twists in her chair to look at the door; she kneels on
the seat and clutches the back of the chair with white knuckles. Her dainty
fingers strain to hold on as the grandfather clock sings on the half hour. The
large wooden door opens slowly, Clara sees the white gloves first, then the
uniform, then…
“Marius!”
Clara runs to her brother. Now eight years her senior, he toward over his
delicate sister. His hair id dusted with snow and her hugs her tightly. Not
wanting to let go.
“Marius.”
Their mother glides over to them, and kneels on the floor to embrace her
children. The Duke walks over and shakes his son’s hand, when the latter
stands.
Clara clings to her brother’s legs; his polished boots are
wet with snow.
“Go get
dressed, Clara. The coach is almost ready.” His eyes smile, and burn with a
warmth the Clara has missed these last months. She runs back to her room, where
Madame has the basin of water and a sponge ready.
“Clean up,
child. And we’ll be on our way.”
***
Clara twirls around and watches her reflection in the glided
mirror. The other girls watch in awe as the red skirt of Clara’s dress spins
and sways to a stop. Marie, whose father is the General’s son, scowls at
Clara—jealous of the attention the former is receiving.
“It’s my
grandpappa’s house.” Marie whines, but the children disband as the music picks
up to a livelier waltz. Clara rushes to her brother, he dances with her, and
both laugh the whole time.
Then the song ends, and the pair go for refreshments. Clara
tails behind her brother, her shoes and new corset slowing her down. She fidgets
with the bodice of her dress, and Marius gently scolds her.
“Be a
lady.” He chides.
She smiles, he returns the smile, but as he turns away his
smile fades, and Clara can swear that she sees a tear in her brother’s eyes.
“Marius?”
she gets cut off by a woman in an elaborate dress swooping over to talk to
them.
“My, my!
Look At you! Marius, correct? The Duchess’ boy. And Clara, sweet thing, how are
you two?”
Marius stiffens slightly when the woman mentions Clara, but
he recovers and responds cordially.
“I just got
back. I ship out tomorrow night. But what of you, Lady Drosselmeyer?”
“Oh, dear
me, don’t call me that! That makes me sound so old. Call me Lady Adelaide”
“Lady Adelaide, how have you been?” Clara lets the adults talk for a while. She
lets her eyes wander around the room until Lady Adelaide addresses her
directly.
“And you
must be nearing maturity, correct Clara?”
“Yes Ma’am.
I am to start finishing school in the New Year!” Clara was very excited to
finally be old enough to go to a real finishing school, and not just have a tutor.
“You are
exaggerating a little, Clara; you are starting a bit early.” Marius tries to
get Lady Adelaide to focus on something else, a recent composer’s new work, but
the white haired hostess is more interested in Clara.
“Finishing
School?” She asks, “You must be nearly ten years old then!”
“I am ten.
I got my first corset for my birthday, Pappa got it for me!”
“You’re not
quite ten yet, Clara.” Marius again tries to play down Clara’s excitement,
“Clara, Mother wants to see you, over there.” He gently, but urgently, pushes
Clara towards the other side of the ballroom, but Clara stays put.
“I turned
ten just after the harvest. I had fresh pumpkin soup as a special treat from Madame!”
Lady Adelaide was very interested in Clara’s story, but Marius
was getting more and more urgent and panicky.
“Come now,
Clara, do not exaggerate. You don’t turn ten for another ten months. We really
should go now. I’m sure Lady Adelaide has better things to do than to listen to
your stories.”
“But it’s
not a story! Marius, let go!”
“Clara, we
need to go.” Marius pulls on her wrist, and speaks through clenched teeth.
“Nonsense.
Marius, you must have forgotten how old Clara was, you have been off traveling
for more than a year, correct?”
“Yes Ma’am,
but I remember that Clara was only…”
“You silly
boy, Clara is the same age as my granddaughter, Marie. You know Clara; we have
a very special finishing school here.”
Clara’s eyes light up and she pulls free from Marius’ grasp.
“You do?”
Clara takes a step towards Lady Adelaide, who grins wider as
she stretches out a hand to Clara.
“Yes. And
we will be selecting one young lady tonight for the honor of coming and being
taught by some of the greatest teachers the world can offer. In all areas of
study, including reading and arithmetic.”
“Arithmetic!
Really?” Clara is bouncing on her toes, eager to learn all that she can about
everything. This sounds like a dream
come true, so why does Marius seem so eager to get her away from Lady Adelaide?
“That is
wonderful,” he begins, again pulling on Clara, this time with more force, “but
we really must be off. And Clara is only nine. Next year, next year she can be
in the selection.”
“But Marius…”
“Not now,
Clara. We need to go speak with Mother. Please excuse us, lady Adelaide.”
“No. I
insist that you stay. Clara, dinner will be served shortly, why don’t you take
a seat next to me?”
“Please,
Clara really should sit with her family. And we…”
The music stops and the Crier announces dinner. Lady
Adelaide sweeps Clara away with one graceful move, pulling the child closer to
her red-clad bosom.
Marius stands where they left him; his face registers
nothing but defeat. Clara looks back, but cannot see her brother, only the
throngs of people, many of whom see her with Lady Adelaide, and look on her
with a mixture of horror and pity. She has no idea why they would look at her
that way, but she ignores them and sits next to Lady Adelaide at the table,
right across from Marie.
***
After the feast, Clara and Marius reunite. Marius and their
parents frantically run over to Clara after desert, all three have their
traveling cloaks on, and the Duchess carries Clara’s.
“We’re leaving.”
The duke instructs, steering Clara towards the door.
“But Pappa,
Lady Adelaide says that I have all the things she is looking for in a candidate
for her school. She has a finishing school here, Mother. Please, they will be
handing out the gifts soon, and the general will announce which girl has been
chosen for the honor of being in their school. Please, I want to stay!”
“No Clara.”
Her mother has never been cross with her before, but now her voice registers no
happiness, no warmth.
“But
mother, please!”
“No, Clara.
We are leaving now.”
“Pappa! No!
I want to stay!”
“For God’s
sake, Clara, keep your voice down! We are leaving straight away. You are not
going to that finishing school and that is final.”
“Marius, I want
to and Lady Adelaide has taken a particular liking to me. She wants me to stand
right at the front when she makes the announcement! Please!”
“Enough!” her father spins around,
they are in the side hall now. The stone walls are unyielding, and it makes
Clara feel trapped. “Clara, darling, just know that we are doing this for your
own good. You are not going to that finishing school. We are getting on a boat
right now, and you will never again see this manor. You are to speak to no one.
Do not say a single word. No matter what happens. Clara, I know you don’t
understand this right now but it is for the better, and it is because of you
that we are doing this.”
“No, Pappa.” She tries to break
through, but her father holds fast to her arm.
“Clara, this is not a negotiation.
You are coming.”
“There you are, Clara!” Marie and
Lady Adelaide come down the hall from the ballroom, the Duke shoves his
daughter behind him, and the duchess grabs Clara protectively. “We are about to
hand out presents. And I know you want to be in there.”
“Come, Clara. I want you to see
this!” Marie reaches for her friend, but her parents won’t let her go.
“We need to leave.”
“But Clara is ten years old, the
selection must be made, and I think Clara will enjoy it. And there are so many
presents for the children.”
“With all due respect, Lady Drosselmeyer,
we really must be going.”
“I insist you stay.” Lady
Adelaide’s eyes seem to flash red and the Duke and Duchess let go of Clara as
if she’s on fire.
“Why her?” the Duchess sobs.
“Quiet. Clara is receiving a great
honor. You know the rules. You should be happy for your daughter. She will
receive the best education in the world.”
“But the price.” Marius snarls. His
teeth once again clenched, and his nostrils flare in rage.
“There is no tuition for my
institution. Clara will be given all new clothes, and books, and supplies, all
free of charge. Of course she will be away from family for a time, but you did
the same, Marius. We all have to grow up sometime.”
“But…my baby.” Clara’s mother
croaks.
“I said quiet. You may have
weaseled your way out of it in your day, but now your daughter will have the
education and refinement you never did.”
“Someone else was chosen. I was
spared.”
“Because you and your mother left
before the party was over. Now it is high time
I received payment for that night. I have waited twenty long
years for this, and now I finally get what I should have that night. Come now,
Clara, your future awaits.” Lady Adelaide’s voice goes from harsh with the Duchess
to loving with Clara. The latter walks back to the ballroom in silence.
When they return to the ballroom, Clara is rushed to the top
of the stairs where Lady Adelaide and General Drosselmeyer give her the gift of
a nutcracker and announce that she will be attending the Drosselmeyer finishing
school starting tonight.
“Goodnight
to you all! And have a very merry Christmas.” The General announces and guests
begin to leave. Clara is whisked away up the stairs to a long wood paneled hall;
at the end is a single door.
Clara walks in and a tall man about the same age as Marius
greets her. The room is dark, but it is obvious that it is a dormitory. There
is a bed and a desk. A large closet and attached bathroom, with a tub. And
there is a cage with a large beige rat in it.
“I get all
of this?” Clara asks in awe.
“Yes, the
rat’s name is Whiskers, and she will be your companion. Most girls find it a
comfort to have a friend like these around. Now if you could just sit here,
Lady Adelaide has something she wishes me to talk to you about.”
Clara sits in the seat, as instructed. The tall man walks
behind her, Clara turns, but he stops her with a gentle hand on her head.
“No, Clara.
Look out the window. Just focus on the lights of the carriages as the float off
into the night.”
Clara again follows orders, she wants to ask questions, but
her mind keeps telling her to just sit still and listen to this man. He bends
over so that his face hovers next to hers, but she can’t see him in the
reflection in the window. She can’t feel his breath on her face. She can’t even
feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder.
All she feels is the weight of his hand, then a stabbing
pain in the side of her neck. She hears a slurping sound as the man drinks her blood;
she falls to the floor, dizzy and confused. He hands her a golden goblet he
seems to have pulled out of thin air. She drinks, but there is something warm
and salty in the cup, it is thick and oozes down her throat. Soon she drops the
nutcracker that she had been clinging to since she entered the room.
The wood is burning her skin and her silver necklace also
burns. She grabs the jewelry and flings it across the room. She watches the
faint lights of the fleeting coaches fade into nothingness; and Clara wishes
that she had listened to her family when she had the chance.
“Welcome to
eternity.” The man says, stepping out the door, leaving her alone.
