The Nutcracker Bleeds

Prologue

A Living Doll

In the attic room, dimly lit by flickering bulbs of gaslight, the girl sat atop her bed. Beneath her was a quilt, covered in squares that presented colorful dolls—her favorite blanket. She wore a blue dinner dress that she had spread out around her like a blooming flower; all the better to keep the wrinkles out.

No one had come for her yet, and time was slipping by into the evening, but Olivia didn’t complain. She enjoyed this solitude, but she was never truly alone. No; there were always so many friends to play with.

She hummed quietly to herself, ignoring the snowflakes that gently kissed her window, only to be shunned by the selfish heat within. The girl was unaware of her simple beauty—completely oblivious to her nubile young body and her soft skin. She had no need for concern over those things, for she would never grow up. She would never be like them, and somehow, she knew that.

Putting down the toy soldier she’d been marching across the quilt, Olivia picked up a pretty doll whose name was Madeline, her ringlets and painted lips perfect. She’d been a gift from the one who loved Olivia most.

If you want to marry her, you’ll have to go to war, Edmond, Olivia said, always forthright. Every girl wants a strong soldier to protect her.

There was silence in the room as Olivia balanced the soldier on his feet, making Madeline prance around him beautifully.

You can make your claims all you want, she scolded as if the soldier had responded to her, but she won’t believe you unless you go to war.

Continuing quiet followed her insistence, and Olivia—very much a child trapped in a young woman’s body—set Madeline down carefully and held the soldier up close to her face. She looked straight into his painted eyes and gave him a look of disapproval.

"What do you mean, you’re afraid? You should have thought of that before you became a soldier! If you don’t fight, you will be looked upon as a traitor by your country, and you’ll be executed. I’d hate to see that happen to you, Edmond."

Olivia looked at the soldier harshly, and after a few seconds had ticked away in the stillness, she closed her eyes and a little smile spread across her lips.

I’m glad you made that decision. Madeline is glad, too. Olivia pulled the soldier and the doll against her chest so tightly that they might have heard the beating of her heart against their own hollow bodies.

The voices were silent. Within the wall, a rat was scratching.

Chapter One

Snow Globe Drama

The winter was upon London harshly that year, the snowflakes coming down in hundreds at once like confetti with occasional streamers blowing past. All this, and even with Christmas swiftly approaching, the toy-maker’s room was neglected—abandoned for almost two months now.

The room was locked, just as it always was when he was away. Euan Ellington was a man who liked order and wouldn’t tolerate his belongings being disturbed by anyone but himself. Therefore, his tools and projects sat alone, silent and unbothered in the cold room on the second-floor of the English home.

Downstairs, the fireplace mantel was decorated with trinkets of the holiday season and lined with stockings, named for the children of the household. In the dining room, a long table of polished rosewood was spread with plates of a great number. Carefully polished silver rested on napkins of lace, and crystal glasses were cleaned to sparkling perfection in order to reflect the chandelier above.

In the grand hall—just as one opened the door to the large townhouse—stood a fir tree. The tree reached heights, extending toward the high ceiling with its entire self, tiny branches trimmed and adorned with ornaments and ribbons of gold.

The Ellington family prided themselves in their preparation for the Christmas season. Everything was perfected down to the smallest detail. Windows and doors were draped with wreaths and the house was liberally decorated with holly and mistletoe. If they’d known of the mice in the house, those mice would have worn slippers. Every year, the decorations were not taken for granted, for this season was a regal occasion.

The house accommodated more than a few of the Ellingtons’ relatives and their anxious children. William and Agatha Ellington themselves had four children, but among those gathered on this holiday were of preceding generations, not forgetting each of William’s five brothers and their children. There would be no less than thirty occupants including servants, and that was not counting the happy children who would fill the house with excited laughter.

For this occasion, Agatha Ellington supervised the kitchen herself, watching the servants scurry with a scrutinizing eye. She observed the table now, making a mental checklist of the place settings. There was an additional chair this year, and as Agatha stared at it, she wondered over her decision to allow Olivia at the table with the adults. There were so many worries; so many concerns…

Is this centerpiece how you would like it, My Lady?

Agatha looked toward the table, watching a pair of servants in matching uniforms position the assembled centerpiece of candles and greenery. She was about to open her mouth and instruct them that it should be placed a bit more to the right, but a sudden wave of dizziness came over her instead, scattering her thoughts.

Not now, Agatha thought, feeling a streak of panic. No, not now.

These feelings of sickness had been more frequent of late, but despite how powerful they were, Agatha was insistent that the help should not know of her distress. If they sensed her weakness, they would talk. It was difficult enough to keep them from gossiping on other matters, as she’d learned.

My Lady?

Agatha looked up, remembering herself when one of the maids called her back.

I… Just put it there. That will do, she said dismissively, and at that, she turned. She tried to keep her pace steady, but found herself walking faster in order to escape. Her unease was growing.

Agatha ducked out of the dining room as a cold sweat broke over her skin. She passed into the hallway, away from so many prying eyes, and moved into a corner near the frosted window, bracing herself on the frame.

Closing her eyes, she tried to will her head to stop spinning. The effort seemed to help. She seized her handkerchief and put it to her mouth, breathing through it to block out the smells of the food drifting through the house. Her stomach rolled as she stared out at the falling snow, which was good enough to distract her for the moment.

No more blood, she wished. Just no more blood.

Are you alright, Madam Ellington?

The voice led Agatha to draw back and pull herself upright, fully embarrassed. That, at least, might have returned some color to her pale cheeks.

Agatha turned to see Anne, her daughter Olivia’s governess, in the doorway of the dining room, peering at her. To look upon this young woman, one was immediately stricken by her natural, fair beauty, and her plain gray dress did not hide the fact. Agatha was not oblivious to it either, but that did not concern her now. Anne knew her place. By all appearances, she was a decent, God-fearing girl, and though she occasionally spoke out of turn, she did her job of keeping Olivia in line, and that was what mattered most.

Still. Agatha did not like the idea that even Anne had witnessed her trouble. She waited for the pain to subside before she was finally able to raise herself back up.

I assure you, I’m fine, Agatha said, taking a deep breath. She wanted to scold the woman for addressing her, but she didn’t feel up to it. What is it that you want, Anne?

The governess did not seem bothered by Agatha’s short words. Instead, the nanny smiled warmly.

I thought to ask you when you wanted me to bring Olivia down, Madam. Should I wait until all the other guests have arrived?

Agatha froze, looking at Anne with even more worry in her pale eyes than what she had for her own health.

Where is she now? Agatha inquired. Sometimes she thought that it was odd how the very mention of the girl—her own daughter—could cause her so much grief.

She’s secure in her room, Anne informed her. Playing with dolls. I’m sure she’ll be happy with that until I come to collect her.

Agatha simply nodded, once again wondering over her decision to allow Olivia to join the rest of the family for dinner this year. The girl could be so difficult—well-behaved one moment and throwing a tantrum the next.

I worry, Agatha said wearily. I fear that someday I’ll become terribly disappointed in her. She keeps herself composed, but perhaps she will embarrass me horribly. I wonder if I made the right choice about what should be done with her.

Anne smiled, keeping her hands still and her back straight as she spoke.

That’s why you have me, My Lady, she said. Agatha knew Anne was trying to reassure her, yet still, she had her doubts.

Yes, I suppose we should wait to bring her down, Agatha sighed. We don’t want her too overstimulated before dinner.

Yes, Madam, Anne agreed, bowing her head reverently as she turned to go.

Agatha’s pain lessened, leaving her free to turn her mind back to the tasks at hand, when suddenly she thought of another matter.

Would you do me one more favor, Anne? she spoke up, calling after the young woman. Could you make sure my husband knows that it’s getting late? He’s in his study, I’m sure. Tell him to come down soon.

Of course, Anne agreed amiably. I’ll summon him for you.

Thank you, dear, Agatha said with a forced smile, but as soon as Anne left, she clenched her side again.

Though Agatha continually dismissed the pain as stress for her daughter and the strain of the holiday, she was beginning to worry over this ailment that she’d been content to ignore thus far. The pains were becoming much more common. She had seen a doctor in secret, but he had failed to diagnose her trouble.

But I will be alright, she told herself. I have far too much to do.

As the first carriage pulled up in the flurry of snow outside, she knew that now was not the time to focus on such minor ailments. Agatha would put herself second. The family had begun to arrive.

Anne took herself upstairs to the second-floor, aiming to do just as her mistress had instructed. She placed soft steps down the narrow hallway, listening to the sounds around her, considering the atmosphere of the familiar house.

There were always creaks and groans from the floor, an occasional flicker of light from a hallway lamp. She could hear the muted hiss and whirl of the gas-powered heating system inside the walls, but those things were commonplace. In the distant nursery, she heard the voices of the three youngest Ellington children as they played together, but that was not Anne’s concern. The others had their own nanny.

Navigating through the house that she knew so well, Anne found her way to William Ellington’s study, first glancing about to see if she was being observed before she smoothed her dress a bit and raised her fist to knock on the study door.

Who is it? came the deep, uninterested voice from within. It was very much like him to be so stern when he was trying to be alone.

It’s Anne, Mr. Ellington, she said carefully, trying to keep the smile from her mouth as she said it.

She was not a bit nervous to stand before the master of the house. Like a king with his scepter—which held the power of life and death—he would grant her an audience. There was silence for only a moment on the other side of the door.

Well, come in then, he allowed finally, and Anne did just that. She went into the study as if she had every right to be there, closing the door quietly behind her.

William was sitting behind his desk as he often did, though whether or not he was actually engaged in his bookwork, Anne could not tell. When he was not out of the house, he spent much of his time here in this room which smelled of pipe smoke and scotch. It was his only retreat from his wife and children, and he took that seriously. Anne liked that side of him.

He did not take his eyes off of her as she approached his desk—did not avert his eyes even after she stopped in the middle of the room, holding her posture.

Your wife sent me to summon you, she said informally. She wants you to remember that you should come down and greet the family as they arrive.

And she sent you for this task, did she? he asked, rising up from his chair to step around the desk.

William was quite a few years her senior, and Anne found that he had a dominating presence. He was a tall, well-built man with an appeal that she could not quite deny, and from the first time he had made an advance toward her, she had not turned him away. They had been carrying on together for nearly two years now—for as long as Anne had been under their roof—and she counted their secret tryst as an added measure of job security.

No convent for me, she thought now as she smiled up at him. Sorry, Auntie.

What business does a nanny have in the master’s study? he asked her teasingly. Anne only looked back at him with eager eyes, tracing his features.

She could not deny the excitement that pulsed within her at each deliberate step he took until he was standing in front of her, looking down with a knowing smirk. Alone in the room, William slid his hand along her arm and pulled her against him. He touched her with the same hand that bore his gold ring—the promise to his wife.

"What business do I have? Well what business do you have for me?" she asked, leading him, knowing her role with him as well as she knew it with his wife.

Plenty, he said lowly, kissing her mouth. Anne’s body was lit with heat from the fire in her belly. She did not protest to his kisses. She’d had plenty of them before and more of him than that, but she didn’t consider their exchange anything more than what was required for her to stay in his favor. Anne giggled as his lips became greedy, seeking more of her in the dim office.

Oh, stop, she scolded lightly, pretending to resist his advance. There are too many people moving about in the house. We’ll be caught.

We’ll be quiet, he whispered huskily in her ear as his lips passed along her neck. Quiet as mice.

Anne smiled, sighing with pleasure as his lips fell on her skin. She gave up resistance. She could play her role as she needed to—to whatever extent she needed—in order to make her own way. She closed her eyes as William’s kisses continued, imagining a day when she might be wearing a golden ring, and this house would be her own.

The warm smells of freshly baked minced pies and the aroma of goose flanked with apple stuffing drifted through the large house. It floated through the hollow spaces in the walls, past the locked room on the second-floor and went straight on to the third. On this third-floor was a single room, adjacent to a large attic, kept far from the rest of the family for caution’s sake, for inside dwelled a certain Ellington daughter who was often ignored by those of her own blood.

Olivia’s childhood hadn’t been filled with nurturing and preparation for adulthood, as most young women. Instead of learning to cross-stitch and care for a husband, she was given whatever she desired. The pride of her life was the army of dolls that lined the shelves of her spacious room. There were all shapes and sizes, all types, with hair that was straight and glistening locks that were in curls, all with different eyes to make them individuals in their lifeless society.

Among the dolls were various other playthings—toy tops, stuffed bears, and puppets, with and without strings. Olivia had a passion for a beautifully crafted toy. She lived in her own world of imagination with her dolls and was quite content to accommodate any toy that had been orphaned by her cousins or siblings. She was the oldest girl in the family, but they all knew something was not quite right with Olivia Ellington.

Now, she sat alone in her room, smelling the food from below but ignoring it entirely for the ballerina in her grasp. The doll had been her favorite for quite some time, made by her uncle Euan especially for her. The ballerina’s clothes were lovely in design, light pink in color with a grand skirt of gossamer. Her shoes were delicate, the exact color of her tutu, and were laced about her ankles with lovely ribbons. Around her neck was a choker of lace and atop her perfectly painted head sat a mass of tight, black curls. Olivia had always admired the doll’s poise and dress, thinking her appearance quite enchanting.

Olivia would often pretend to be the ballerina herself, imagining her own corn-silk hair to be pulled up tightly with strings and flowers. She wished to dress like the lovely ballerina with the porcelain skin, though understood it was not meant to be. She was Olivia Ellington, warmed by the blood that pulsed inside her living body, and that she understood. Though none of this kept her mind from wandering.

She sat on her bed with the doll, wearing the blue dress that had been chosen for her. Here, she waited. She would be called to dinner soon, and after that, gifts would be opened, but most importantly, her uncle Euan would be returning home. Like the other children in the house on this day, she couldn’t wait for his arrival.

Now, where were we? she asked the ballerina doll, coming back to the matter at hand. Oh yes, you were telling me about the mice—

Before she could continue her conversation, Olivia heard footsteps in the hallway outside her room. The turn of a key allowed the door to open, parting the dimness within. A familiar face appeared there.

Anne. Olivia thought her nanny looked a bit frazzled—her face flushed—but the girl decided to give it no further attention.

Time to come down, Olivia-dear, Anne called breathlessly from the doorway.

Olivia would have lived most of her days in isolation were it not for Anne, who came and went as she pleased with the turn of a key. Olivia did not think that her nanny was altogether terrible, but Anne was often stern and unfeeling toward her. Still, Anne did take her for walks in the park and allowed her to be alone with her toys as often as she liked.

But Anne would never play. Olivia disliked that about her.

Olivia turned her attention back to the ballerina, uninterested in what Anne was saying.

Has uncle arrived yet? she asked, letting the doll twirl in her open palm.

Not yet, her nanny told her, but I’m sure it will be soon. Your mother says you should come down now. It’s almost time for dinner.

Olivia sighed, bored with the conversation, but she complied, carefully laying her doll down. She pulled herself off the bed, standing at quite a reasonable height for a girl of her age, yet she looked down at her shoes as though she had never towered over them so. She stood straight and tall beside the bed, staring down, unmoving for moments.

What’s the matter, Olivia? Anne sighed from the doorway, drawing her back. Olivia was not so daft that she couldn’t recognize the annoyance in Anne’s voice.

It’s odd, she muttered, ignoring her nurse’s impatience. "It seems my shoes are closer to my face. I feel as though I must have shrunken since this morning. In fact, just yesterday I noticed that my dress dragged the floor, when before it hadn’t. Anne, do you think it’s possible to shrink? Do you think I will shrivel until I no longer am?"

Nonsense, Anne replied simply. She was always annoyingly rational that way. Now come. They’re waiting.

Olivia smoothed her dress, forgetting her troubles for the moment, and was content to go downstairs. She made it to the door as Anne reached over to dim the lamp on the wall, but Olivia felt a rush of panic as she caught the attempt.

No! she protested quickly, seizing the woman’s hand so abruptly that Anne jumped.

Olivia, we’ve been through this. It’s a waste of gas to leave the light up, Anne said, refusing to remove her hand from the small, jutting knob beneath the lamp, but Olivia was intent against it.

But they will be afraid if you turn off the light, Olivia insisted, a bit of fear in her own eyes as she considered the trauma of being left in the dark.

Anne seemed baffled by her request, and Olivia wondered—not for the first time—if her nanny wasn’t the daft one.

The dolls. Please, said Olivia with certainty. They’re afraid to be alone in the dark. Leave it on? Just until after dinner?

Anne observed her another moment, but was weak to the request, as Olivia had guessed she would be. She was to be appeased tonight. It was the eve of Christmas, after all, and just as she had known, Anne consented, though hesitantly, and ushered Olivia out.

Anne watched Olivia trot past her happily, and the governess breathed a quiet sigh. Yesterday, the girl had been worrying herself over the spaces between the walls. Today, it was about the lights. Most of the girl’s apprehensions were ridiculous, only immediate concerns that were usually never mentioned again. Anne tried to excuse them as often as possible, and now mustered a great amount of patience for this.

As much as she might have liked to spitefully dim the lights now that the girl wasn’t looking, Anne let Olivia have her way. She felt for the key in her pocket, and once she felt its solidity beneath her hand, she was willing to go.

Sending a last glance around the room, but neglecting to notice that all the dolls seemed to have their eyes turned toward the doorway as if watching the departing pair, Anne pulled the door shut.

Chapter Two

Ghost of Past

After the extended family had arrived and greetings had been exchanged, the Ellingtons gathered at the dining room table for their feast.

Seated there were William and Agatha Ellington themselves, William’s parents and mother-in-law, two ancient aunts, four of William’s brothers and their wives, two of his unmarried nephews that had since reached adulthood, and a couple of first cousins.

Anne wondered if she was the only one who could see the ghosts. There was animosity looming over these people. They were not the picture of perfection that they appeared, even dressed in their finest. There was scandal and bad blood all around.

For the first time, Olivia joined them at the table, after much begging and careful consideration. In the same way, Anne was allowed to be present for the first time, standing attentively behind Olivia with the servers, ready to take charge of the girl if there was any hint of embarrassment. She was otherwise invisible to the family and was expected to remain so.

Everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to follow, Anne thought to herself sardonically, but she was not displeased with this arrangement. For once, she was able to observe the family in their element. To her thinking, it was one step closer to sitting at the table herself.

Anne was not unfamiliar with this sort of dining. She was not without experience herself, but that was years ago, in another life that seemed far from her now.

The dinner began as planned, first with the traditional toast to those gathered. This was followed by pleasant conversation and the slow eating of the meal. None of this seemed to please Olivia as much as the girl had hoped. She’d been excited about it for weeks, talking of little else. On the other hand, it was just as Anne suspected. She found herself watching Olivia push stuffing about on her plate to form patterns, no doubt lost somewhere in her dream world with the dolls. Anne found herself lost as well, watching William and Agatha at the far end of the table, smiling and lifting glasses of wine. They had ghosts around them as well—of their real faces, not these false ones that they were displaying to the guests.

Watching them, Anne felt a hint of disgust, though she wouldn’t believe it was jealousy. She knew her place, and she was merely biding her time.

Wasn’t Euan supposed to join us? John Ellington spoke up. Anne caught his words, snapping out of her private thoughts.

You know that he comes and goes as he pleases, John, William said, a bit dismissively. He’ll be here tonight, though God knows when. He’s not one for dinners, besides. He writes letters to Olivia, but other than that, we hardly get word at all.

Well, the girl is right here; I’ll ask her.

Anne had been paying attention, but she was fairly certain that Olivia had not. John had been the only one to direct any conversation the girl’s way, and Olivia had nearly hypnotized herself by staring down at the uneaten food on her plate before finally realizing that silence had fallen on her ears.

For once, Olivia, Anne sent to her silently. For once, don’t be complicated.

That was too much to hope for, and she knew it. Olivia lifted her head, only to find that everyone was looking her way. She looked back at them in a daze as she saw them all sitting upright—waiting. As expected, she then lent her confused gaze to Anne, who smiled back sweetly—a forced effort.

Your uncle John has addressed you, Anne coached her quietly.

Olivia gave her attention to the mustachioed man across the table. Anne felt confident that the girl knew her manners, and she would mind them. That was a blessing, at least.

Sir? she asked politely.

Good, Olivia. Down the table, Anne also saw Agatha’s sigh of relief.

William was just saying that you’ve received letters from Euan, John said, repeating himself with an air of amusement. He says Euan has been in France.

Yes, Olivia replied simply—and to Anne’s dismay, that was all. Usually, when a topic was chosen that she was enlightened about, the girl wouldn’t hesitate to share, yet tonight she fell silent.

Anne’s gaze met William’s for a split second before John had cleared his throat and moved on, refusing to press Olivia. He directed his attention to the handsome young man sitting two chairs down from him.

Todd, he addressed, calling attention to his brother, Arthur’s oldest son. You were in France recently, were you not?

The brilliant youth with the sparkling blue eyes lifted his head from his plate to engage in the conversation. This was not the first time Anne had seen Todd. He came around for the holidays, like the rest, and he had certainly not escaped Anne’s notice. He was by far the most accomplished of all the younger generation of the Ellington family. His natural charm and handsome face had taken him far and would take him even further still. He would be rich and well-educated like his predecessors, already preparing for his future while attending Cambridge, at which he was excelling, as was expected.

Mother said I was lacking culture, he said. Said I needed a break to observe art. I suppose she was right. It did me better to be out in the open air than to be cooped up with the stuffy University crowd.

A light round of chuckles passed from the mouths of the family. Todd smiled attractively and turned his gaze toward Olivia with adoration, as if he’d been speaking only for her benefit. Anne was not oblivious. He seemed fond of the girl when others did not. She guessed it was the bond of cousins—the result of growing up together as first friends.

Anne was always unsure of where the conversation would go when Olivia was involved, and once again the girl sprung a surprise.

Could I be excused to the hall, father? Olivia asked abruptly. I’d like to sit beside the tree.

William glanced up briefly, and instead of looking toward his wife for the answer, his eyes instead met Anne’s. Her nervous heart skipped a beat, but she took care not to show it. She had grown skilled at that. He gave a nod of consent—for there was nothing else to do—and Anne led the girl out silently.

The prospect of toys? Truly? Was that all it took to bring one joy? Is this the secret of happiness? Anne wondered that to herself as she followed Olivia into the great hall.

Olivia had much the same reaction to each new toy she received. With her family’s riches, she might have asked for almost anything—furs, jewelry, flowing dresses—but instead, she was as happy with a wooden figurine as she might have been with a silk-lined coin purse. Anne did not understand it. On days like this, she simply did not understand the girl at all.

Anne had other ideas about what might have pleased her. A mysterious relative of the Ellingtons perhaps, who was as rich as he was strikingly handsome, with an estate in the country. He would be younger than William, of course, and suitable for marriage. Anne would seduce him in an instant, and then she would be in her proper place.

While Olivia would find great joy in the gifts she received on this holiday, it had been a Christmas much like this one in which Anne had discovered her own gift.

Her aunt had often said she was a talentless child, but Anne had found her skill in being a woman. It had come with the blood, like the blessing of the Virgin, in which Anne had discovered the truth of herself. She’d found the power in her womanhood—strength in her beauty.

She’d been younger than Olivia then. It seemed that the girl’s mental state had kept her from the blood, and perhaps that was a blessing in itself, but Anne would never know. Without even planning to, she had begun to hone her skills of seduction at an early age. She’d practiced on the sewing mannequin; flirted with the suits of armor in the manor hallway. They had never returned her advances, but she had known that if they were real, they would have fallen for her.

Anne had stood in front of the mirror at her aunt’s house, naked, examining the curves of her body, begging for touch. In secret, she had explored her own peaks and valleys, discovering herself as no one else was allowed. This was a taste of sin, as much to spite her aunt as to please herself.

She’d done this every night for many days, amused at the idea that her guardian did not know her secret, but it hadn’t been long before Anne had wanted more. It was not enough to be alone with herself. She’d wanted another.

She’d wanted a man.

Even at Mass, she could not stop thinking of her need. Her aunt might have called her possessed if she had known, but Anne had kept it to herself, hiding her furtive eyes beneath her hat.

It was her darting gaze that had led her to first lay eyes on him.

He was married, like William, but even back then, she hadn’t been bothered. She was more excited by that, in fact—of stealing a man’s attention from another—forbidden fruit. She had observed him for weeks at the church without him being aware of her interest. She’d watched him drink the wine, and she had wished he would drink her down, just like that.

It had only taken an introduction, of showing him her desire through her eyes, and he’d cast off the sanctity of his bond, pursuing her in secret. He had sent her expensive gifts, and she gradually gave him tastes of her love, just to string him along. When she’d finally given herself to him, the thrill had subsided a bit. She’d sought another lover. She’d had one after another, and when she grew bored, she tossed them away.

When the trouble came, she had known fear like never before.

She’d never considered consequences, but she had learned then what made a man shrink back in fear. The blood had seemed to dry up, and when she made mention to her lover, she had seen horror in his eyes. He cast her aside. Anne’s pride in her own shrewd dealings had collapsed upon itself. She had been beaten at her own game.

Her dalliance had left her scarred. When she’d gone to her aunt in tears, she’d received no sympathy. The cold-hearted woman had cast her out into the frozen street.

Like a dog, she recalled angrily. As if I weren’t even human.

Anne had lived in a boarding house with other women in similar situations, waiting nervously for each day to bring her fate to her. When the blood returned a few months later, with no further signs, she had considered herself lucky and returned to her aunt, but without a good reception. The woman had wanted to place her in a convent, but Anne had refused that idea, fleeing once again. At that point, making her own way in an uncaring world had seemed better than living a life she didn’t want.

Since she had no longer been in trouble and considered herself presentable for work, she took herself to acquaintances of her aunt, seeking employment in their houses. Her timing could not have been better. The Ellingtons were seeking a new governess for their daughter. The pay was decent, not that Anne could hope to be choosy, and there had been a bonus. She had seen the familiar glint of interest in William’s eye, and she had found a new opportunity for herself.

And now I am here, she mused, watching Olivia kneel down in front of the tree. What a charmed life.

Olivia was difficult at times, but even when she was behaving well, Anne had found her to be an annoyance from the start. They were so different in their views of the world. It had been through Olivia that Anne had realized she did not like children, but even the other Ellington offspring were different from the girl in her charge. They, at least, would eventually grow up, whereas Olivia would not. Still, Anne had persevered. She put up with the girl, and at the same time continually proved herself to be a suitable companion for William in secret. She was discreet and reverent in front of others, and just what he needed her to be in private. She read him easily, tending to his desires to keep him pleased. Further on, she felt confident in her ability to avoid conception. She was the perfect mistress.

Anne smiled a bit to herself as she stood aside, watching as Olivia admired the Christmas tree with childish delight.

The perfect mistress… What a talent.

Oh tree—oh lovely tree, how spindly are your branches.

Olivia’s eyes stayed frozen to the fir for a time, unwilling to look away from the charming ribbons and bells. The tree gleamed in the light, and soon excitement had taken over her body. Olivia remembered the magic of Christmas, and all her distaste for the moments at dinner vanished into nothing. The sight of the tree had always lifted her spirits.

There were beautifully wrapped gifts of all sizes and colors, tied carefully with matching bows. As Olivia looked them over, she couldn’t quite forget that there were some missing. Her uncle hadn’t yet arrived. She wished greatly to see his face, just as the other children were awaiting the wonderful toys he would bring them. Surely he would not let them down. He never had before.

Olivia remembered the last story that her uncle had told her before he’d left, for he always told her stories, and she always remembered every one. The last one he’d told her was about a girl who opened a box that she was not supposed to, and inside were all the dreadful things in the world, released simply because she’d been too curious to control her actions. Olivia remembered this, and since he had left, she’d not wondered once what he would bring her, remembering that curiosity was bad, but silently hoping he wouldn’t bring the gift to her in a box.

Olivia could hear sounds of disturbance from the children’s table as they finished their meal, now as they headed towards the tree with excited voices. She also heard the adults beginning to stir. It wouldn’t be much longer until they would all be opening presents. The more she thought, the more she longed to see—

Outside the door to her left, she began to hear a gentle scraping on the stoop. The girl’s face lit up immediately and she pulled herself up with her petticoats. She ignored Anne, who had lingered with her silently, heading to the door in a rush as the thumping of a cane outside became louder and closer. She pulled open the door happily before any servant could reach it, and there he stood.

Olivia stepped back to let him inside, and soon all the children were aware of his arrival. The shadow of a lean, crooked man came into the house, his cane thumping along with him. He wore a long brown coat, his white hair hanging to his shoulders, his hat covered with snow. One blind eye was concealed by a patch and he carried a cumbersome bag on his back.

He looked nothing like a toy-maker. In fact, he seemed like the sort of man that children might have feared, but there was not one here whose eyes did not glimmer for his arrival. He had a warm smile and soothing voice, with which he’d won over many. On this Christmas Eve, he appeared before the children like a rather thin and ghastly Father Christmas, but they welcomed him just the same.

Once he saw Olivia and the other children, his face lit with joy. At once they all began speaking, asking questions of him and wanting hugs. The adults gathered in the hall at the ruckus. A servant pulled a chair out to the floor for Euan, and another took the bag from his shoulder.

Euan sat in the chair, speaking with those who welcomed him, but all this was silent to Olivia’s ears. The smile on her face could not be tarnished. He was the most important person in her life, and finally, he was back after leaving her alone for so long. It seemed like forever, but now all of that was in the past. She shoved it away to be forgotten.

I’m so glad you’re home, uncle, she said as she hugged his neck tightly.

As I am glad to be back with you, Euan said sincerely. Now, he began, addressing them all. I do believe I have something for each of you.

The children smiled happily, sitting on the floor in front of him to wait until they were called. They all wore huge smiles, and Olivia joined them, having no problem with awaiting her turn. She knew that the wait would be worthwhile.

Anne stood near the fireplace, feeling the warmth of the flames against her back. She watched Olivia sit down with the other children, though clearly much older than they were. Euan gave out his gifts to them one by one, and Anne was all the while thinking how pathetic it was. Anne had never been so spoiled.

That’s what her problem is. She’s petted, Anne thought, but she would never suggest that aloud.

Do you think the way you treat her is right? The low voice near Anne’s ear startled her. Had the tone been any less smooth, she might have started with surprise.

Anne turned her head to see Todd, who had stepped up without her notice. He stood facing the children, his arms crossed before him, his dark hair silky and perfect. Anne didn’t see this young man often, but they had spoken before. He had never been very formal with her, and Anne was not afraid of their dialogue now—but to her dismay, he only seemed interested in talking about Olivia.

And how is it that I treat her, sir? she asked lowly, hoping to hide their conversation from the others who were standing about. They should not have been speaking in view of the family, but Todd did not seem to care.

You all treat her like a child, Todd said snidely.

"That’s how she wants to be treated, Anne insisted, tilting her head toward Olivia where she sat on the floor with the younger ones. Look at her. She’s one of them."

If you’d treat her like an adult, perhaps she’d act like one, he said heatedly. She’s not ignorant. You allow her to be viewed as this.

I do my job, sir.

You’re as bad as the rest of them.

Anne was annoyed by his tone but knew it wouldn’t be proper for her to raise her voice.

There is no hope for her, she said, her words level, but proving without a doubt that she’d given up on the girl. She is lost to whatever strange demon resides in her mind. That is all. Nothing can be done.

I refuse to believe it, said Todd, turning his face to her.

At his simple piercing stare, Anne’s heart began to speed. Clearly, he didn’t desire her for conversation, or anything else for that matter. He would only scold her and she was unable to escape, yet she would remain upright and without emotion in the face of it.

You refuse to believe that she is mad? Anne asked him pointedly.

No, Todd revised. I refuse to believe that she is incapable of change. She’s strange, that’s true… He sent his gaze back to Olivia, still sitting on the floor—waiting. I would prove that there is something different inside her, Todd said thoughtfully, but you must let her go first.

What? A shiver ran up Anne’s back, across her neck and reaching toward her ears. Todd had asked her to let Olivia go—asked her to lose her purpose in this house? Impossible. To give Olivia up would be to let go of everything she had here. No, there would be no giving up. She had worked hard to establish her place with this family, and she intended to hold onto it.

I cannot leave her, Anne declared with valiant devotion—a lie which they both recognized. She’s not well. I care too much for her to leave.

"You care nothing about her, he countered, keeping his voice low. No one does."

And you would pretend to, she accused quietly. "Wanting to take her away for study at your University, no doubt."

Todd fell silent a moment, refusing to look in her eyes. Not so far away, children were giggling and ripping paper.

I suppose this is not the time to speak of these things, he decided finally, though no one else in the room had seemed to notice their exchange. Perhaps later.

He leaned back against the mantel then, setting his sight intently on the gift-giving ahead, just as it was time for Euan to present Olivia with her gift.

Anne tried to forget what had just transpired or to at least appear as though it had not affected her, but at the moment, she was relieved that Todd could not see her face. She would not have admitted it, but his words troubled her. Inside, she felt threatened, and she did not like that notion at all.

The children were happy to have received their presents of dolls and soldiers, none looking quite alike, but Euan was most pleased to present Olivia with her gift. She was his sweetest girl and held a special place in his heart, even if the rest did not recognize the beauty of her state.

She came forward, standing in front of him with an innocence that could not be ripped away by the progression of age. This warmed Euan’s heart. He smiled affectionately.

Every year for fourteen years, I’ve made your gift, he began, but this year, in my travels, I came across something that I wanted for you. I don’t know why I chose it, he said, trailing off into his thoughts a moment, but as soon as I saw him, I knew he was meant for you.

Reaching into the bag, her uncle pulled out a gift wrapped in paper. He must have known of her fear of a box, and Olivia was happy to open it. She peeled back the paper carefully until finally, she saw the thing that was to be hers, and her eyes lit with surprise and wonder.

Do you like him? Euan asked hopefully, though he knew she would not refuse.

In her hand rested the gift. He was cut from rich, brown wood and painted with precise detail. His face was carefully carved with surprisingly smooth cheeks, a perfect nose, and a stern, attractive mouth. His wooden head was draped in white hair that reached down his chest, almost seeming real. He had no visible eyes, but empty sockets of black that created the illusion of eyes. He was straight and tall, his arms at his sides, but strangely, under his arms were ridges of metal, and mirrored crests were against the sides of his waist.

Euan watched Olivia examine him—as she lifted one arm out to the side, letting it fall back to hit against the metal ridges of his torso with a cold, iron clank. To his pleasure, she was amazed and enthralled by it.

I’ve never seen quite an interesting nutcracker, said Euan thoughtfully, almost as if to himself. His arms are for the cracking, not his teeth. And his face is carved so beautifully—a prince among nutcrackers. He must definitely be rare. He was not in the best shape, but I cleaned him up and gave him a new coat of paint. Now he’s good as new.

Olivia examined the toy’s small mouth, amazed to find that there was simply a pair of carefully carved lips; no large jaunty teeth like the common sort of nutcracker. She loved him immediately.

He’s wonderful, she said in awe as she gazed down at the nutcracker prince. She hugged him, and when she drew back, Euan saw the same little girl that had always smiled back at him, never changing. As long as she was pleased, all was right with the world.

Once Olivia had been presented with her gift from Euan, the rest of the children set to adding ornaments to the tree, but the girl had lost interest, fascinated as she was by the nutcracker. She could not be bothered to care what her family thought of her. She was as oblivious as any spoiled child, and when she asked Anne to take her to her room, her request was granted.

Chapter Three

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Dressed in her pale nightgown, Olivia held the nutcracker lovingly, completely taken with the decorative doll. He had strong arms; she liked that about him. He was a perfect though unconventional-looking soldier. He would keep her safe.

She ran her fingers lightly across his painted wooden chest, smiling down at him. None of the other dolls would have this one for a prince. He was too beautiful to share. In her mind, she saw herself and this nutcracker dancing across a huge ballroom floor, gazing at each other.

But he will go to war first, Olivia thought with satisfaction. Yes, he would fight for his lady without hesitation.

She was so infatuated in that moment that she didn’t hear the door of her room slowly creak open.

A figure stepped inside, closing the door and locking away the light from the hall lamp. Feet stepped quietly across the rug and passed the bed, stopping to peruse a shelf of dolls on the far wall. Olivia was aware of him now, though she intended to ignore him as a shadow on the edge of her vision—but her attention was drawn to him when his young hands lifted up one of her porcelain dolls with exaggerated care.

You didn’t seem very sociable at dinner, said Todd, examining the doll a moment before setting it back on the shelf. Is your uncle the only one you’re pleased to see?

Olivia averted her eyes, refusing him for the nutcracker in her grasp. She wished Todd would go away, but instead he moved towards the bed, sitting beside her carefully, only to watch her a short moment before he spoke.

I missed you, he said. Did you not miss me at all?

Olivia ignored him, trotting the nutcracker across the bed in front of her. If I pretend I don’t see him, he will go away. When he lingered, she finally stopped, letting her blue eyes drift toward Todd as he sat silently, staring at her. She didn’t like his gaze. It made her think of a hungry wolf.

What if I had, she asked, "but then decided not to miss you? I was perfectly fine without you being here."

You didn’t think about me at all? he asked, touching her shoulder.

She shrank back at his touch, disgusted by it.

I made it just fine without your company, she insisted, managing to shrug him off.

Todd stood then, stepping to glance at the shelf of dolls in front of him once again. His action seemed nonchalant, but she had seen the anger in his eyes.

"These kept you company? he asked, staring at all the blank expressions on their lovely faces. They aren’t making you