The Nutcracker Bleeds (2 page)

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. “Of 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 sometimes, 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 as to not 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 wall
lantern, 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.

4

Anne
watched Olivia trot past her happily, and the nurse 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.

1

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, 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.

For
the first time, Olivia joined them all 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 her 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 fully 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. On the other
hand, it was just as much as Anne suspected. She found herself watching Olivia
push peas about in 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 her 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. Her nurse at least
felt confident that the girl knew her manners, and she would mind them.

“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 said 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 her. 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 on major 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 in the dorm 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 a cousin–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 to
her–for there was nothing else to do–and Anne led the girl out silently.

2

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 with 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 this. 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
body, 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 of 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 bonnet.

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, and 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 that horror in his eyes, and 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 coldhearted 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 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 nurse 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.

3

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

Olivia’s
eyes stayed frozen to it 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 over them, she couldn’t quite forget that there
were some missing. Euan 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.