Chapter 12
With Alice upon the pedestal, Guinevere deftly manipulated the strings, fastening a button at the back of Alice’s dress.
Alice avoided meeting her own reflection, her gaze darting everywhere but.
Strange, she thought. The gowns lining the room looked as if they belonged to another era—decades old, if not more.
Guinevere yanked tightly, forcing out Alice’s breath.
At the back of the room, Wendy crouched behind a garment rack.
Was she crying? She was bent toward the floor, and, when she looked up, Alice’s breath returned.
Wendy was not crying. In fact, she appeared suspicious, glancing quickly to the changing station and back at her skirts.
Wendy locked eyes with Alice’s reflection and a sneaky grin came across her face.
Wendy stood up straight, then pulled the front of skirt up slightly with a finger to her mouth.
Glittering silver flashed, and Alice gasped.
Guinevere’s eyes darted up to meet Alice’s, and in a split moment followed her attention to Wendy, who had dropped the skirt just in time.
“It’s marvelous!” Alice forced. Though her tone was jarring, it was effective, as Guinevere stepped back, caught off guard.
“Indeed, it is marvelous. Silver does suit you, Alice,” Wendy said, approaching proudly.
She smiled, not over Alice’s ballgown, but instead over the effective accomplice Alice made.
Whether it was a rebellious spirit or simply a contrarian nature, Alice saw glimpses of herself reflected in Wendy’s smiling face.
Wendy was a natural, born to parade around in gowns as if she was at the opera, but Alice felt ridiculous walking—in a line, no less—down the grand hallway of the manor like they were ducklings crossing a bridge.
Her enormous bell gown’s hoop swayed dramatically, seeming to have a will of its own.
The cream lapels wrapped around her neck with a finished collar of silver lace that tickled beneath her chin.
The stiff puff of her shoulder sleeve was so large it kept catching her peripheral vision.
Alice stopped abruptly as Wendy and Guinevere began to float down the marble steps. “How on earth am I supposed to see where I’m stepping?” Alice muttered. “Please don’t let me fall.”
Somehow, she made it to the entry foyer below, where the driver stood before the twin stairway opposite the foyer.
His white hair was slicked back, and he wore a cream vest with a matching silver jacket and trousers.
Alice briskly clacked across the marble to him.
“What is all of this?” she whispered. He glanced to where Guinevere stood unlocking the double mirrored doors beneath the stairway and shook his head.
“Do you not speak?” Alice sharply whispered, and he again nodded back to the doors.
Guinevere’s sole focus was on Alice’s reflection in the mirror.
She was clearly waiting for all parties to be present to open the mysterious doors.
“Alice. Aren’t you pleased I invited him?
It is always nice to have a gentleman escort you to dinner.
Always nice to have a gentleman for a plethora of things.
” Guinevere’s tone was inappropriate and aggravating at best. “Go on. Take his arm.”
Alice hesitated, considering it. She would have liked to accept the driver’s arm—but not if it meant giving Guinevere the satisfaction. Instead, she turned and walked forward on her own, watching her reflection slip away as the doors swung open before them.
As the mirrored doors swung open, the blazing fire at the solarium’s far end radiated heat that left Alice itching underneath the collar of her gown and her throat parched. She strained her neck, desperately trying to alleviate the fabric’s scratchiness.
Tracing the walls upward, she found herself under a ceiling of steel and glass distorting the world below it.
Wendy’s voice reached her ears, and when Alice glanced down, she saw Wendy inhaling the fragrance of a topiary near the entrance.
The room overflowed with blossoming roses, and in the center stood a large table filled with an abundant feast of meats, cheeses, and breads.
While Alice was famished, it didn’t deter her from surveying the odd tableau.
A man in a crimson suit, reminiscent of military attire, stood by an easel.
He was muscular but very lean, all his features dark and pointed.
His long black hair was knotted beneath a peculiar cap, which resembled one a bellhop might wear, but adorned with crimson feathers.
The somber expression on the man’s face suggested this bird could never take flight.
There was something deeply unsettling about the scene, and the driver’s slowing steps and nod to Alice confirmed her thoughts as they ventured further into the room.
Alice returned the nod as she noticed that the room was set up to look eerily similar to a tea party she had encountered in her dream of Wonderland, and she suddenly felt as if the boundaries between her dream world and reality had blurred.
Was she trapped within a twisted manifestation of her own psyche?
Maybe she had died in the cold-water tank and this was purgatory.
“Do come this way,” Guinevere chimed, clapping her hands daintily. “At the easel you have Jin. Say hello, Jin!” The lean man in the peculiar cap hardly nodded. “Hurry now. Shall we have some tea?”
Despite the room’s growing warmth, an icy shiver ran down Alice’s spine.
“I’m not certain that—” she began, but Guinevere clapped again, more insistently this time, summoning more men in crimson suits, who marched with military precision, swords encased in golden sheaths, entering through a second door.
They took disciplined positions behind the table, where two high-backed chairs of crimson velvet with hammered nail trim awaited.
Alice gasped to herself as they took formation.
They were the Queen of Hearts’ playing card guards.
“Wendolyn, please stand beside that chair,” Guinevere instructed, pointing with an air of authority.
Wendy hesitated, her gaze lingering on the guards, who showed no reaction.
“Alice, please take your place beside Wendolyn. And you.” Guinevere motioned feebly toward the driver.
“Sit in the chair beside our Queen.” Guinevere’s words struck Alice like a warning bell, and her mind began to race, as a haunting wind whistled through the solarium, drowning out all other sounds, except a faint whispering that began to climb.
“Alice. Now!” Guinevere’s once-beaming eyes transformed into wide, enraged orbs, propelling Alice to swiftly join Wendy.
Guinevere’s demeanor shifted into sudden sweetness.
“Fetch her chair, please,” she ordered the guard behind the chair.
The driver, making his way around the opposite side of the table, kept his unwavering gaze locked on Alice.
Wendy stood frozen, her shock palpable, tears welling in her eyes.
“Where is the crown and the necklace?” Guinevere demanded, scrutinizing the guards, who exchanged puzzled glances. It appeared that none of them possessed a crown or a necklace.
What on earth was going on?
“Jin!” Guinevere snapped at the man with the feather cap. “Have you finished them?” He nodded tersely, the sternness of his angled brow reflecting his clear disdain for her.
“Where are they!” she screamed. Alice shifted subtly, trying desperately to appear calm, as she tried to extend her neck in the tight collar.
Sweat began to bead, and her body began to flush.
Everything in her body was telling her to run, but she couldn’t seem to move.
Anyway, there was no way she was leaving Wendy.
Alice took her hand and squeezed it tightly as Jin turned with a scowl to fetch Guinevere’s jewelry.
After what felt like ages standing silently in the manor solarium, Alice breathed a sigh of relief when the man called Jin finally returned from fetching the crown and necklace, each in their velvet boxes, along with another decorative tall hatbox matching those within the hidden wardrobe.
This one had the number “13” painted in gold on it.
Guinevere lifted the crown of rubies from its box, turning it in her hands as if studying a relic. The gems caught the light, casting fractured red glints across her face. She ran her fingers along the intricate metalwork, a slow smile creeping across her lips.
Satisfied, she approached. Jin followed, the open case in his hands displaying a jeweled choker of glimmering metal and rubies. As Guinevere walked toward Alice, her eyes were fixed and unmoving.
“Here we are, Alice,” Guinevere said pleasantly, holding the crown out over the bountiful table.
Alice looked slowly from the crown to Guinevere’s eyes.
Guinevere forced a wider smile. “Alice.” It was then, gazing down at the crown, that Alice noticed the trinkets and objects dispersed across the table.
Before her, a playing card in deep red ink boasted a painted portrait of the Queen of Hearts.
“Why am I to wear this?” Alice snapped.
“You are posing for a portrait. I want you to match mine!” Guinevere paused, then pressed down her high collar revealing a choker of identical design. “I want to commemorate this special moment.” She gestured with the crown for Alice to take it.
Alice did not. “It is not lost on me what you aim to mock. Did Miss Marker share my doctor’s records with you?”
“Whatever do you mean, Alice?” Aside from her irritation, Guinevere seemed genuinely confused.
“It’s obvious you wish to mock things I shared, in confidence, as they are laid out before me: the chess board at the end of the table, game cards scattered about. Is it your wish to drive me mad?”
Alice met Guinevere’s false smile. They stood unmoving for a moment before Guinevere laid the crown on the table and said, “I have seen this in my dreams!”
“I shall not indulge you in this gaudy display,” Alice insisted, “as it is clearly an attempt to poke fun at my childhood dreams, which, although they may have been a touch fanciful, were nonetheless enchanting. However, this crude imitation is gloomy and unskillfully staged.” Alice couldn’t stop her thoughts from spilling out; not even Wendy’s urgent whisper beside her could rein her in.
“Your chess sets are poorly crafted, and you are missing several pieces. And then there is the matter of the manor itself. It seems you wish to save on heating by keeping all activities central. The front rooms are far too cluttered with furniture, while the rest of the house, from the little I have seen, is empty and neglected. It is clear you once had wealth. Notably, you lack any semblance of refinement. Perhaps you lost your wealth!”
“How dare you! I am not poor!” Guinevere rebutted in a childish burst, then stood with her mouth hanging open.
Well, Alice had gone this far. “Furthermore, the tea settings are hardly suitable for an evening event. You never received proper etiquette lessons, so I could assume you married into the wealth you lost. So, again, I wish not to engage in this charade,” Alice said with her nose up, as Guinevere poorly tried to compose herself.
Alice felt as though she was vibrating. What had she just said to Guinevere?
“You disappoint me, Alice,” Guinevere said, with narrowed eyes.
“Your disappointment has nothing to do with me,” Alice proclaimed.
“I am not defined by your expectations, but my own choices. My identity isn’t a topic to be debated over with anyone but myself.
And that is all there is to say about that.
” She gave a definitive nod. “Now, my choice is that Wendolyn, myself, and the driver must leave.”
Guinevere laughed. “No one will be leaving!” She snapped her fingers at Jin with the display box containing the ruby necklace. Inside the lid was a small ribbon that he pulled down to reveal a metal disc the same diameter as the choker. “Draw!” she shouted.
In one swift movement, the guards all pulled their swords from their golden sheaths and pointed them at Alice. Wendy screamed and backed away, then slipped and fell as a guard turned to her with his blade drawn.
Wendy lay where she had slipped and fallen on the floor, the guards over her with their swords drawn.
Suddenly, Guinevere pointed at Wendy and let out a terrible scream.
“Why are you wearing those?” Peeking out from the hem of Wendy’s black skirt, the silver slippers beamed with an almost blinding sparkle.
Seeing Guinevere advance on Wendy, Alice pushed past the guard holding the blade and knelt beside her friend, though what she would do to protect her, she had no idea.
Wendy shrank back, her eyes wide with terror. “I only tried them on, and then I couldn’t get them off!” Wendy demonstrated. “See!”
Guinevere screamed again, like a child throwing a fit over a toy. In a cold sweat, Alice hurried to try to help pull the slippers from Wendy’s feet, but they held fast.
“Take them off!” Guinevere screamed, stomping and shaking her fists. “Jin! She has my slippers! Remove them at once!” Spit flew as she seethed.
Jin did not move. He scowled at Guinevere. “This has gone too far.”
“Oh, now is no time to grow a conscience!”
Alice turned to soothe Wendy and to the task of getting her out of the slippers. “It’s all right. We will get them off.”
“I’m frightened, Alice!” Wendy whispered through her tears. “I don’t want to be here. I wish I were home.”
Alice felt her heart breaking. She tried desperately to pry the slippers from Wendy’s feet. “I am here, Wendy. We are in this together!”
“Save poor Wendolyn, Alice!” Guinevere taunted, pacing like a cat ready to pounce. “But where will you go? You have no home!”
“Enough!” Alice yelled at Guinevere, who laughed in the face of her shouting.
“Wendy, please look at me, listen.” Wendy was beginning to tremble, her stunned face frozen.
“Wendy, you do have a home,” Alice said, trying again to slide a finger into the heel of Wendy’s slipper.
“It is in Neverland, Wendy. Isn’t that right?
We will find our way out of this nightmare. We will go there together!”
“Neverland.” Wendy’s mouth contorted as she tried to speak through uncontrollable tears.
Alice gripped the shoe with both hands and pulled.
“I wish I never left. I wish I were in Neverland,” Wendy whispered.
Alice felt a burning pulsation beneath the fingertips that held Wendy’s foot.
Then, in an instant, Wendy had vanished.