Page 2 of Return of the Nutcracker Prince

“Thank you, Uncle!”

He stepped into the fabric.Uncle Ludwig opened the portal to the Realm of Waking.Its blue light growing rapidly until the other world came into view.Beyond the portal stood the stately bricks of Stahlbaum manor.Warmth glowed from every window and door, welcoming the guests for the annual Christmas Eve festivities.That was the last thing he saw as the uncomfortable stiffness of his Nutcracker form overtook him.He shrank into the sack as Uncle Ludwig hefted it onto his shoulder.Soon, he would see his Clara again.

After all this time, would she remember him?

Footsteps marched down the hallway.Clara recognized her mother’s gait over the steam of the laundry room.“Heidi, could you press these linens and take them down to the drawing room?They’re for the desserts table.”

“Of course, Miss Clara.”The young maid’s cap bobbled as she curtsied, cradling the delicate damask.

“Thank you,” Clara responded, flustered.The way the servants deferred to her now that she was an adult always made her uncomfortable.

Heidi and she were both twenty-three, yet merely by the circumstances of their birth, they had fallen into drastically different roles in society.Clara’s maid had gone to the local schoolhouse until she reached working age.Her reading and writing were elementary, and she could add or subtract enough to handle her meager pay.Meanwhile, Clara and Fritz had been tutored by a private governess, and her father’s library was always open to her to expand her mind.While many girls of her station enjoyed their embroidery lessons, Clara had always escaped as quickly as possible into a book.Sticking her fingers with needles was not her idea of a pleasant pastime.

She’d never felt right treating Heidi, or any other servant, as a lesser person.They did not choose their life any more than she herself had.But Margareta Stahlbaum did not agree with her approach.

Clara took a deep breath and braced herself for her mother’s harsh tongue.She must have overheard her thanking Heidi and stormed into the room, her fierce green eyes shooting sparks.Heidi scurried out and away from the mistress of the house.

“Clara, what do I always tell you?”

Her gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet her mother’s smoldering ire.“The servants are not your friends.”

“The servants are not your friends,” Margareta repeated.“They are here to do a job.And it is your right and your duty to tell them what to do.Your father pays them and you owe them nothing more.”

Clara’s face burned in shame.Not at what she had done, but because she wasn’t the least bit sorry.It was an old argument, one her mother had lectured her on for years.She’d learned long ago it was easier to stay silent when she inevitably displeased her mother.

“Your next embroidery shall be ‘A mouse cannot run a house.’And why are you concerning yourself with the linens?The head housekeeper knows what is required.She doesn’t need you.”

She remained silent.Clara knew better than to tell her mother she enjoyed feeling useful.Mrs.Schafer had asked to borrow Heidi because one of the other maids had come down with a cold.She had wanted to help like she used to.Before the servants changed how they treated her.

Her heart ached for her lost childhood.

“Now, the party will start in less than an hour and you’re still wearing your day dress.Go get ready.And have your maid pull your stays tighter; all those sweets you’ve been eating have done you no favors.”With that last dig at her plump figure, the slim, elegant Margareta swept back out into the hallway.

Clara waited until her mother was gone and then stole out the servant’s staircase to avoid anyone else seeing her.Fritz would have a field day if he knew Mama had scolded her.That golden boy could do no wrong in their mother’s eyes and it grated on her.His favorite hobbies were horseback riding and bullying his elder sister.

Even the thought of finally wearing her beautiful green silk Christmas gown, brand new this year, couldn’t brighten her spirits.She’d never been the daughter Margareta wanted; too sympathetic, too emotional.And far too invested in her books.

As a child, when she’d tried to tell her parents about the fantastic dreams she had at night, her mother would say,Stop telling tales.

It had been years since she dreamed regularly.Which was why the dream from the night before had been so odd.

But Fritz waited upstairs in the hall, buttoning his brown silk waistcoat.“Where have you been?”

“Around.”She didn’t need to answer to her little brother.

While he was much more pleasant nowadays, since they were adults, Fritz still lived to pester her.He just didn’t break her things anymore.Papa made him work in the stable last time, for an entire week two years ago, to pay him back for the last perfume bottle he’d shattered.

It had been her favorite, too.

“You’ll never get a husband if you insist on hiding in the library.”

The joke was on him; she didn’t want one.

Silence was best deployed when dealing with Fritz.Clara had learned that a long time ago.She slammed her door in his face and sighed.

Heidi knocked gently on her door shortly thereafter.“Miss Clara, your mother sent me to help you dress.”

“Come in.”

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