Midnight in Everwood

by M. A. Kuzniar

  ‘We ought to do something about her hair, Sally.’ Ida examined Marietta’s sable hair, tumbling down one shoulder in a lazy twisted plait, a hand coming to rest on her own elaborate pompadour.

  Sally’s eyes swivelled between them as if she were a spectator at Wimbledon. At least she had been ousted before Ida had revealed the direction her intentions towards Drosselmeier lay; the last thing Marietta desired was to be made the object of household gossip. Her patience frayed like a scrap of lace. ‘Have you seen Father lately?’

  Ida plucked a silver brush from Marietta’s dressing table. ‘Not since he declined to accompany me to my luncheon. Why do you ask?’ Marietta adopted an air of studied nonchalance. ‘I wondered if you knew that he has company tonight.’

  Ida paled beneath the rouge she’d never admit to wearing. ‘Surely not, tonight of all nights.’

  Marietta fastened a pearl stud in her ear. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see with whom he was talking; I merely heard voices in the library when Jarvis took a tray of Bollinger in.’

  Ida thrust the hairbrush at Marietta and swept out of the room. Adding the second earring and picking up a compact, Marietta met Sally’s eyes in the mirror. She flashed a grin at her lady’s maid as she dabbed a touch of powder on her nose.

  ‘Very crafty, miss,’ Sally said, holding open a box of silk gloves.

  ‘Why thank you, Sally,’ Marietta said, selecting a pair in the creamiest ivory. Ida would fail to find her father’s alleged company downstairs, but Marietta would have staked money on the odds that she’d find something else to criticise instead.

  Sally left the room, leaving the door open. Through it, Marietta heard the butler announce the arrival of Dr Drosselmeier.

  Chapter Five

  So it was, on a grey evening, that the Stelle family finally made the acquaintance of the much-gossiped-about Drosselmeier.

  Marietta entered the drawing room just as Jarvis, their butler, announced dinner in his sonorous voice, such was her habit in order to avoid the litany of niceties in which she would otherwise be forced to engage.

  Ida shot her an admonishing look, though she was careful not to crease her powdered face, which lessened its effect somewhat.

  Marietta strolled in and plucked a glass of Veuve Clicquot proffered by the nearest valet. Her father had failed to notice her untimely arrival, being mid-discussion with Dr Drosselmeier on the new prime minister, Henry Campbell-Bannerman, and his landslide victory for the Liberals early this year. Marietta secretly approved of his social reform plans but Theodore was concerned they would give all the power to the trade unions and frequently espoused his dislike of the man. Drosselmeier’s back was turned to Marietta, the fabric of his ink-black dinner jacket glossy under the light of the sparkling electric chandelier, his matching trousers cuffed to display black and white striped ankle boots, as jaunty as Frederick’s sartorial selections.

  ‘Shall we adjourn to the dining room?’ Theodore’s voice cut through their conversation. Drosselmeier inclined his head, turning towards the door. ‘Ah, Marietta, at long last you’ve materialised.’ The crystal glass in Theodore’s hand was already emptied to its dregs, accounting for his joviality. ‘Dr Drosselmeier, if you’ll allow me to introduce my daughter, The Honourable Marietta Stelle.’

  Drosselmeier turned to Marietta, his gaze falling on her. ‘I am charmed to make your acquaintance,’ he said with an old-fashioned, slight bow.

  ‘Likewise,’ Marietta said, offering her hand. He clasped her fingers gently. He was taller and more handsome than she had remembered from her initial glimpse, which explained the rife gossip. His eyes were a pale frosted blue and she found herself unable to stop looking at them. There was something uncanny in their depths that ensnared her attention. Before she could place it, an unrecognisable emotion swept across his face and his eyes turned to shallow pools, casting her out of the ancient heart of a glacier she had been lost in. Marietta blinked, breaking their shared gaze, only to discover that he had retained her hand. She withdrew it with a polite smile to hide the flush creeping beneath the bodice of her dress. If Cicero was correct that the eyes interpreted the mind then she wondered at the thoughts whispering through his. Her intrigue deepened.

  ‘Dr Drosselmeier has kindly bestowed one of his inventions upon us,’ Ida said, gesturing at a carriage clock perched on an end table, beneath a large painting of a cherubic younger Frederick.

  Painted in slate grey with white panelling, the drawing room was a large space sprinkled with chesterfields and stuffed chairs, long windows, hothouse lilacs and a Steinway. A mahogany cabinet stretched up one wall, displaying the finest Stelle mementos: a handful of Frederick’s old toy soldiers, taken fresh from the box and forbidden to be played with; Marietta’s porcelain doll in her silk gown and ringlets that she’d loved and named Clara from afar with her hands pressed against the glass; the staged photographs of her and Frederick, uniform in their painted-on expressions, emotions tidied away as if they’d never existed. There was a space next to the one in which Frederick held his undergraduate degree, awaiting Marietta’s wedding photograph. She averted her eyes from it as she wandered over to the clock.

  ‘A fine piece it is at that, mighty clever,’ Theodore said, holding out his glass to the nearest valet. It was refilled in a hurry. ‘I maintain my opinion; there is a fortune to be made in selling these.’

  Marietta studied the clock. She had yet to place why her father had shifted viewpoints; was he merely being cordial after pre-dinner drinks with Drosselmeier or was there something she was missing? It was a finely wrought construction in black walnut yet simple, a spiralling vine of roses carved into the wood its sole ornamentation.

  ‘If you’ll allow me—’ Drosselmeier reached from behind her ‘—it requires a turning of the hands.’ He wound them round the clock face until they were positioned at four o’clock then stepped back and waited with his hands clasped behind his back. A hidden pair of doors sprang open on the carriage clock and a toy soldier marched out. His little arms and legs moved on the mechanism that looped around and saw him salute them with a click of his boot heels before he marched back inside.

  Marietta smiled. ‘What a delightful invention.’ She ran her hands over its surface, feeling for the seams of the doors, but the wood was smooth and flat.

  ‘I say, show her what happens at midnight,’ Frederick said, sitting on the edge of the nearest settee to gain a second look.

  ‘Why, whatever happens at midnight? Now I simply must know.’ Marietta glanced up at Drosselmeier in time to meet his smile. On the other side of the room, where her parents looked on, she couldn’t help noticing Ida murmur discreetly to Theodore.

  ‘Only the most magical things happen at midnight. When mortal folk are dreaming, safe in their beds, it is then that the sprites and goblins creep out and the air crackles with wild magic.’ He wound the hands to the witching hour.

  Marietta shivered. Outside the window, a blanched moon had swum up the sky, and now and then it peered milkily at them between cloud wisps. An owl hooted, a branch tapped against the window and the candles glowed like fallen stars. A glimmer of something a little like belief slid into her heart. When the clock struck midnight, a series of tiny hatches opened, revealing a collection of little fairies, twelve in all, arising in puffs of lilac tulle and silver glitter. They flew up and down on mechanised rose stems, descending in as magical a manner as they’d appeared, leaving not a speck of glitter behind them.

  ‘What a charming creation,’ Marietta said. ‘Why, it’s every bit as magical as the fairy tales I read as a child. My father is entirely correct, you do possess an extraordinary talent.’

  ‘Come along,’ Theodore called back to them as he escorted Ida into dinner, his cheeks ruddy above his silk tie, navy to accentuate his wife’s dress.

  ‘Though you are far too kind, your compliment has warmed me. May I accompany you to dinner?’ Drosselmeier offered his arm.

  Marietta acquiesced. She smiled and took it.
His jacket sleeve was silky, scented with peppermint and secrets. She rested her fingertips atop it.

  During the course of the previous day, Ida had overseen the household staff preparing the dining room until it gleamed, determined for it to be showcased at its best. The mahogany table and chairs shone with polish and a faint honeyed scent. Large crystal vases brimmed with roses and white stocks in a confection of pastel peach and cream, and the wooden floors were softened by the Persian carpet, which had been cleaned for the occasion. The electric lights had been switched off in favour of the softer glow afforded by candlelight. Tapered candles in silver holders punctuated the table settings. Other candles were capped with shades, melting the light into twinkling shadows.

  Marietta found herself seated beside Frederick, on the opposite side to Dr Drosselmeier, with her parents at opposing ends of the table. His gaze brushed against her as they took their places and Marietta glanced down to hide her rising colour. She busied herself with unbuttoning her long ivory gloves at the thumbs and peeling back the silken material over her wrists.

  ‘You appear to be settling into Nottingham rather nicely from what I gather. Tell me, how are you finding our fine city?’ Theodore asked while his glass was filled with sherry in accompaniment to the soup course.

  Drosselmeier shook out his napkin. ‘I must confess, my enjoyment of it took me entirely by surprise. Most of society are in the belief that only the grand cities of London, Paris and New York are worth bothering with but I have found that Nottingham holds a certain charm of its own.’

  His words were smooth and deliberate. Marietta swept a spoon across her soup; leek and potato with swirls of cream and fried croutons, quietly taking his measure herself.

  ‘We’re full of charm,’ Frederick said drily. ‘What was it that had you set your sights on Nottingham? I believe you mentioned you used to be a doctor?’

  ‘That’s correct. In fact, I owned a private practice in London some years ago.’

  ‘A practice of your own is an impressive feat for a man of your age.’ Ida’s dark-blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight, her delight at his accomplishment obvious, her smile as effective an accessory as the pearls strung around her neck.

  ‘That is most kind of you. Though I must confess, I found it all rather tiresome.’ Drosselmeier twizzled his soup spoon in his long fingers. The silver sparked and Marietta glanced up at it. Between the flashes she caught a glimpse of a glass swan, floating along a mirrored lake. A vision of ice and stars and the cold, dark spaces between them that were wont to pinch her thoughts with terror if she dwelled too long upon them. She frowned and it shattered.

  ‘I soon grew tired of the monotony and escaped London for a while, fortunately so, as it was then that I discovered my raison d’être in my current profession.’

  As Drosselmeier continued, Marietta turned her attention back onto her soup, ignoring the anxious moth-wing flutters of her heart. She must have been imagining things.

  ‘In crafting your own inventions?’ Theodore finished his soup and proceeded to drain his glass.

  Marietta sensed with sibling intuition that Frederick was attempting to hook her attention. Drosselmeier’s smile poured across his features like honey. The slow, languorous smile of a person who believes they hold the secrets of the world. Marietta was curious what he would say next.

  ‘I prefer to think of it as spreading a little magic,’ he said, and, with a flourish, he shook out his serviette onto the tablecloth. When he whisked it away, Marietta pressed her fingers to her mouth. A small glass swan was sitting there. Delicate and gossamer-fine with a luminosity to it that played with the qualities of light and reflection.

  ‘Oh, how utterly delightful!’ she said, charmed yet bewildered.

  Drosselmeier inclined his head with a small smile. ‘Consider it a small gift.’ He presented it to her.

  Ida’s smile cut wider.

  Marietta turned the glass swan in the candlelight, admiring its delicacy. ‘You flatter me, Dr Drosselmeier. I do possess an avid appreciation for swans; they are just the most exquisite creatures. Rarely do we witness such refined elegance in nature. I’m most delighted with your gift.’ She wondered if she’d been dreaming when she’d seen the vision. It was warm in the dining room and the windows had clouded with steam.

  ‘You are most welcome,’ Drosselmeier said softly. ‘Swans make for a beautiful model, though you must know they are as vicious as they are elegant. Nature is a cruel mistress and often brutal.’

  Marietta looked up, curious at his words. ‘I fear it is all too common that beauty is laced with a darker edge,’ she said, and Drosselmeier’s eyes locked onto hers, darkening with intrigue. She sensed that he was a kindred spirit, governed by an alternate set of laws to the majority of their class. ‘Perhaps it is our own misunderstanding of nature that leads to us finding it cruel and brutal. For the swans, it is simply life,’ she finished.

  Frederick plucked the glass swan from her hand and examined it, turning it this way and that. ‘Its design is marvellous, almost reminiscent of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne through the stretch of the swan’s neck and the fluidity that’s evoked, though instead of transmuting stone to silk, you’ve played with the effect of light by using glass as your medium.’

  Marietta nudged Frederick’s foot beneath the table. He gathered his senses, replaced the swan before her and cleared his throat.

  As the soup course was taken away, replaced with the fish course and fresh glasses of white wine that Jarvis had pre-selected and run by Theodore for his approval, Marietta found her attention flit back to Drosselmeier, between the efficient bustling of the footmen serving their dinner à la Russe. The ivory candle shades illuminated his silvered hair and shadows skittered across his classic features as the footmen filtered back to their stations.

  ‘Your son is extremely cultured,’ he commented to Theodore, whose expression turned rigid.

  ‘Where did you reside before your arrival in Nottingham?’ Marietta asked before her father could respond.

  ‘After I had made the decision to depart London, I embarked on a pilgrimage to study my craft.’

  Marietta paused in selecting the proper silverware. ‘Would you care to tell us more? If I didn’t know better, Dr Drosselmeier, I would say you were being evasive.’ Her smile was teasing.

  Ida sighed. ‘Marietta dear, would you kindly desist in interrogating the poor doctor.’

  Theodore swilled his wine, unable to quash his spark of interest; Marietta suspected he was every bit as curious as she.

  ‘That’s quite all right. I am afraid I have been caught; I was being vague,’ Drosselmeier said. He raised his eyebrows at Marietta’s poorly concealed amusement at the fact. ‘As much as it pains me, I cannot share the whereabouts; it’s a trade secret and one that I am compelled to guard closely.’

  ‘How intriguing.’ Frederick grinned. ‘There’s nothing like a few choice secrets to retain an air of mystery.’

  Drosselmeier’s eyes didn’t leave Marietta. ‘Though I am at liberty to entertain you with the wonders I have witnessed in my travels. Of sitting atop a pyramid, witnessing an apricot and honey sunrise flooding the desert. Of ancient sea-battered ruins and cities buried deep within jungles. Of the icy wasteland of the vast northern tundra, where reindeer roam, the moon shivers and the Northern Lights enchant the skies.’

  Marietta felt the stirrings of envy. It seemed having Drosselmeier as a regular guest would prove interesting indeed.

  ‘It appears you are a well-travelled man—’ Theodore cleared his throat ‘—though I am not so unworldly myself. You must join me for cigars after dinner and we shall exchange stories. I purchase only the finest; I share a supplier with King Edward, I’ll have you know,’ he added in an aside.

  With the entrée of vol-au-vents came more champagne. Marietta declined both, listening to her father conduct the conversation as if they comprised an orchestra.

  ‘I was remiss not to mention earlier what a fine cabinet
I spotted in your drawing room,’ Drosselmeier said as the remove was served. Pie in a burgundy sauce, potatoes sliced fine enough to render them translucent and a heap of fresh vegetables. Marietta cut dainty mouthfuls, stifled between the heavy richness of dinner and the unrelenting heat emanating from the flickering wicks.

  Ida bestowed a beatific smile upon him. ‘You are far too generous with your compliments, Dr Drosselmeier.’

  ‘Perhaps you might allow me to craft you an addition for it?’

  ‘Why, I couldn’t possibly accept—’ Ida began.

  ‘It would be my pleasure,’ Dr Drosselmeier said.

  Ida’s smile was laced with greed. ‘Well, if you insist then we would be most appreciative. Your inventions are simply marvellous; I have never seen anything quite like them before.’

  Marietta had no doubt that shortly everyone would be clamouring for a Drosselmeier creation. A nugget of magic in their own homes, an enchantment to kindle their imaginations, warm them with nostalgic thoughts of days long past, of fairy tales and toys and playtime come to life. The man himself was charming, too, and Marietta was pleased to find that she had enjoyed his company. It had been some time since the Stelles had had a dinner guest she had not found insufferable and, what was more, she was not the only member of the Stelle family enamoured with the stories he had spun.