Chapter 11
With the drapes parted, gilded, floor-to-ceiling mirrors stretched across the full wall, reflecting Alice across the room.
“Isn’t it grand?” Wendy said, standing back to take in the wall of gold and glass. Alice looked at herself. She had not gazed upon her own reflection in years – not fully, at least. She’d avoided it, in truth.
Now she did her best to keep her sense of wonder buried, but the mirrored wall called to her.
Could she walk through it? Would someone walk through to her?
No, she told herself, and she went to where Wendy stood, also trapped in self-exploration with the image before her.
“I’m just now beginning to look like my mother,” Wendy said, gently touching the skin around her eyes, seeming as if she might cry.
“Do you miss her, Wendy?” Alice touched Wendy’s shoulder, looking into her eyes in the reflection.
“Of course, but it isn’t that…” Wendy seemed in a trance, studying her face.
“Please tell me,” Alice said.
“It’s silly.” The reflection of the women before them seemed unfamiliar to both.
Alice looked at the two of them in the gold-framed glass, Wendy’s face beside her own, and for half a moment something in the arrangement rang, the way a glass rings when a note finds it.
Not a likeness. She could not have pointed to a likeness.
It was more that the mirror seemed satisfied, as though it had waited a long while to hold the two of them at once.
What a fanciful notion, Alice thought, and she would have laughed at herself, except that her chest had gone tight for no reason she could name.
She turned the feeling over once, found no bottom to it, and pushed it aside.
Some thoughts are like wells. One does not lean over them long.
Wendy released Alice’s hand and stared indignantly beyond it. “How do you suppose we open this?” Wendy said, running her hands down the gold frames of the mirrored panels.
Alice tentatively followed Wendy’s lead, feeling for latches or hidden knobs. Wendy pressed firmly against the center panel beside Alice, causing it to wobble. Terror rushed through Alice that the sheet of lead glass would come smashing down on her head.
But Wendy boldly gave it another push, and the panel slid away, just like the pocket doors had. “Oh! It’s on a track and cable. Push the panel in and slide it toward the wall.”
Alice gingerly raised both hands, pausing for a second to look at her reflection again. She slowly pressed her fingers against the mirror, feeling the cold surface that did not vanish at her touch. Delusions, Alice told herself and slid the panel open.
Alice looked into the dark room, which was lit only by the glow of the sconces that washed in from where they stood.
In darkness she could see the sparkling flecks of gems glimmering inside—and she could see that the wardrobe was not a wardrobe at all, but another whole apartment, with ornately carved cabinetry lining its perimeter, housing endless rows of gowns.
“There must be a sconce somewhere.” Wendy’s muffled voice came from somewhere inside.
“Wendy, wait for me!” Alice called, stepping over the gilded frame with the familiar joy of adventure to enter the glittering darkness.
“Here!” Wendy said. There was a loud click, then light shone down over Alice with the ringing hum of electricity overhead.
Alice looked up, taking in crystal prisms that dangled from the chandelier, then looked around the room.
Rows of gown racks encircled it, creating a barrier of gems and silk in front of bays of cabinetry.
As Wendy emerged from around a rack, she jumped, gasping. Alice, startled, spun around, but Wendy began to laugh in relief. “It’s just a dressing mirror! For a moment, I thought there were three figures standing there.”
The changing mirror was tall, much taller than Alice, and comprised of three gilded framed mirrors hinged together and placed so the outer mirrors reflected Alice from either side, while the center mirror stared back at her directly.
She leaned forward, looking into the side mirrors.
Each reflected its mirrored counterpart infinitely.
It was a gold-framed tunnel of a million Alices, all looking to her in the center.
She walked behind the mirror, admiring the enamel back plating. “Even the backside is rich,” she said, touching the gold easel that braced the center mirror upright.
As the sound of doors opening came from the furthest side of the room, Alice jolted, then was relieved to find it was Wendy, pulling the double doors of one of the cabinets open.
“What have you found?” Alice joined Wendy to see for herself.
Silk shoes embellished with gemstones were perched on what looked like serving platters covered in velvet. Alice had never seen such opulent footwear. She touched a small gold slipper that boasted a rose bloom made of cut rubies and silver filaments.
Wendy was already opening another cabinet, this one revealing rows of velvet-lined drawers containing necklaces, rings, and diamond chandelier earrings on individual pedestals.
“It’s as if someone has hidden a royal dowry!
” Wendy exclaimed and went to pull the doors of the next cabinet open. They didn’t budge.
“Is it locked?” Alice asked, wasting not a moment to pull out the key she’d found under the desk. Wendy nodded and stepped aside as Alice pushed the key into the gold hole.
“Wait,” Wendy said, placing her hand on Alice’s before she could turn it. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What if it’s something we aren’t meant to see?” Alice’s stomach told her this part should indeed remain off-limits, but her curiosity, as it often did, outweighed the right course of action.
Alice turned the key, and a click deep inside the lock made her heartbeat quicken. Wendy stepped back as Alice opened the doors, which swung open to reveal not the interior of a cabinet, but the entrance to another room.
It was about the size of their room in Pastoria House.
Velvet drapes covered the walls. Spotting two large rope pulls with fringe tassels at the back of the room, Alice hurried to them and began to draw the drapes open, revealing shelves that ran the length of the wall.
On them were rows of ornately hand-painted hat boxes, each decorated with a different floral motif and a number.
Beginning at the top shelf, the boxes were numbered one through twelve.
“Who would lock away bonnets and fascinators?” Alice asked, after she’d drawn the drape halfway around the room. She took a box from the shelf, and Wendy moved nervously beside her. “Would you mind?” Alice asked. Wendy didn’t look pleased but held out her hands to accept the box from Alice.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” Wendy said. Alice paid no mind as she unclasped a tiny gold hook that secured the lid shut. She swung it open, and she and Wendy peered inside. A silk bag masked the prized contents.
“Maybe it’s the crown jewels,” Wendy whispered as Alice began to untie it.
“Do be careful with that,” Guinevere’s voice cooed from just outside the doorway. Startled, Wendy nearly dropped the box. Alice grabbed at her hands to keep her from letting go.
“Please forgive us,” Wendy blurted. “Curiosity got the best of us.” She slammed the box shut, pushed it back onto the shelf and quickly exited past Guinevere with her head bowed. Alice did not move.
“What is kept in these boxes?” Alice asked, looking at Guinevere, who wore a coy smile.
“Precious headwear,” she said plainly. “Now come, we must dress for dinner.” She turned and sauntered slowly away.
Wendy gave Alice a stern look with a small motion of her hand for her to follow immediately.
Alice finally stepped from the hidden room and slowly followed, observing their reflections as they walked toward the trifold mirror.
Then, she spotted motion behind her. She shot a look over her shoulder in time to see the cabinet doors of the hidden room close behind her with a gentle but distinct click.
“How in the world?” Alice said softly.
“Alice, please, come along,” Guinevere called. Wendy had turned with wide, agitated eyes. Guinevere looked directly into Alice’s eyes through the mirror. “I won’t ask again,” Guinevere said, though her smile remained.
Alice began to walk, her curiosity now tinged with fear, a combination of emotions that didn’t usually yield ideal outcomes. “Keep your head about you,” Alice said quietly to herself, watching Guinevere casually run her hand over garments on a rack.
“Yes, please do!” Wendy said in a forceful whisper, taking Alice’s hand to pull her along, then softly smirked.
“Wait there, Alice. Wendolyn, please undress,” Guinevere said, waving them toward the center of the room as she slipped behind garment racks. Alice’s pulse quickened at the request, which felt more like a command, but Wendy did not hesitate.
Moments later, Wendy stood on the stool, wearing only her yellowed chemise and slouching worn stockings, her arms folded around her body to hide it.
Guinevere emerged from behind a rack, holding a black taffeta gown.
“This one shall do nicely,” she said, unbuttoning the crinoline-lined skirt from its corset top.
Alice was uneasy, which brought out a stubborn resistance that she usually couldn’t overcome.
She imagined declaring it to Guinevere there and then – I don’t know what it is that we’re doing, so I don’t want to be part of it!
– but something kept her mute as Guinevere dressed and admired Wendy, as if Wendy were a porcelain doll.
Wendy was born to wear gowns; she was more beautiful than the women painted in oils that hung in Alice’s father’s study. The dress itself, however, was rather funerary in Alice’s opinion. Again, though, rather uncharacteristically, she kept her thoughts to herself.
“Wendolyn,” Guinevere said, “go fetch yourself a pair of shoes from the third cabinet over there.” She pointed with a limp wrist. Wendy knew where the priceless shoes were and hurried obediently.
Guinevere then looked upon Alice, who remained standing with her feet resolutely off the tufted carpet that made up the dressing area—a small act of rebellion which gave her some sense of control.
“Alice, darling,” Guinevere said, glancing to Alice’s toes flush with the carpet’s edge. “Let us enjoy the evening.”
“I thank you for your kindness, but I’m afraid I must decline,” Alice said, her jaw growing tense as Guinevere came over to stand toe to toe with her. “My head has begun to ache, and I should very much like to lie down.” Guinevere’s painted smirk began to tighten.
“Do you think these will do?” Wendy’s voice cut through the mounting tension, but Alice did not dare glance away.
Guinevere finally broke eye contact to address Wendy, who held a pair of slippers reflecting the prismatic shine of the chandelier above.
Small rainbow fractals danced around the room from the silver stones that were, quite literally, aglow.
It must be a trick of the light, Alice thought.
“Extraordinary, aren’t they?” Guinevere said reverently, walking towards Wendy with her hands extended toward the slippers as if reaching for a lover on stage.
“Give them here, dear. Look upon them.” The intrigue caused Alice to forfeit her position at the carpet’s edge.
Curiosity had thwarted her stubborn pride.
“There are so many precious gems on one delicate shoe: silver aura quartz, cut and polished here.” Guinevere pointed to the magnificent cloudy grey crystal.
“Moonstone, teardrop grey diamonds, all embedded in lurlicite.” She whispered the last metal hypnotically.
It was an element with which Alice was unfamiliar.
“Exquisite works of art.” The romantic lilt in Guinevere’s voice crept under Alice’s skin.
Alice began to weave a story for the mysterious Guinevere: a young duchess who once owned this fine home and was now relegated (though by whom?) to one floor to live with her finery and jewels alone, completely mad.
She keeps a secret, Alice thought, sure of at least that much, with a glance back at the cabinet of hat boxes.
Alice’s curiosity was getting the better of her, and she softened her demeanor. “I shall select my gown now. I’m feeling much better!”
Guinevere nodded and smiled, but the squint of her painted eyelids and the curl of her smile told Alice that she didn’t trust her—and that she intended for Alice to understand this. Alice nodded in return, and an unspoken understanding of mistrust was made.
“Silver does not suit you, Wendolyn,” Guinevere said abruptly. “It’s all wrong for you. Go select something else.” Wendy cast her eyes to the mirror and scanned her reflection as if she did not recognize the person looking back at her.
While Guinevere returned to the racks to hunt down a gown for Alice, Alice watched Wendy’s face.
Somewhere, the seed of “silver doesn’t suit you” was taking root, ready to spread and grow until all Wendy would hear was “nothing suits Wendy.” Alice imagined Wendy’s mind covered in flower roots with blooms that whispered, “Wendy is nothing.”
“Dreaming again, Alice?” Guinevere startled Alice from her dark thoughts, approaching with a silver and cream dress draped over her arms. Cream silk peeked out from beneath the crystal beaded floral motif embroidered over Battenberg lace.
Wendy looked longingly at the gown as it passed, knowing it didn’t suit her.
Suddenly, then, she shook her head, as if to shake it clear of the notion.
Guinevere, having already passed Wendy, did not see the change, and Alice could see the gleam in Guinevere’s eyes; the intent to flaunt what Wendy couldn’t have. Guinevere was playing a game, using Alice and Wendy as living dolls.
All right, I will play, Alice thought to herself, determined to protect Wendy, and to find a way to win a silly game with a grown woman who wished to toy with delusional girls. She took the gown in her arms, wondering how she could triumph over Guinevere.