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“Pardon me, Mr. Mayhew, but have you seen Victor about?”
Mayhew looked up from his pipe, doing his best to stifle a bout of coughing. Standing by his side was Miss Elizabeth Austen, Victor’s latest governess. The young woman was wringing her hands, looking both worried and rather annoyed. “He’s run off again, has he?” Mayhew asked once his throat was clear.
“Yes – I swear, nine times out of ten, you can leave him somewhere, and he’ll be in the exact same spot when you come back, no matter how long you’ve been gone. But that tenth time. . . .” Elizabeth shook her head. “I hope he hasn’t gone chasing butterflies again. The mistress complains so much when he does that.” In a softer voice, she added, “Of course, the mistress complains about everything.”
Mayhew chuckled. “It’s just how she is,” he said, with the air of someone who had worked a long time for Mr. and Mrs. Van Dort and somehow not quit in a huff. “She’s not happy unless she’s complaining about something.”
“So I gathered from my predecessor.” Elizabeth straightened her bonnet. “But you haven’t seen Victor?”
“No, ma’am, I–”
Mayhew was cut off by another coughing fit. Elizabeth frowned at him as he slapped his chest. “You really ought to stop smoking that awful pipe,” she informed him. “That cough will be the death of you someday.”
Mayhew knew she was probably right. But his addiction to the joys of tobacco was too great for him to ever contemplate quitting. “I’m all right,” he told her, getting his breath back. “I’ve lasted this long, haven’t I?”
Elizabeth’s reply was cut off by loud yapping. Both she and Mayhew looked down to see Scraps running up to them, barking like mad. “Well, hello there Scraps,” Mayhew said, giving the dog a friendly pat. He didn’t care what Mrs. Van Dort said about “that horrid beast,” he liked the little pup. Not only because he liked dogs in general, but because he knew how much Victor loved Scraps. That poor boy needed all the friends he could get. “Where’s your master then?”
Scraps barked at him, sounding oddly fretful. Mayhew frowned. That wasn’t like Scraps at all. “What’s wrong?”
“Has something happened to Victor?” Elizabeth added, wringing her hands.
Scraps barked twice, then turned and ran back the way he’d come. He paused a few strides away and barked again. “I think he means for us to follow him,” Mayhew said, then coughed again. “Guessing he wants to take us where Victor is.”
“Oh, dear, I hope Victor isn’t hurt,” Elizabeth said, hitching up her skirts so she could hurry after the little dog. Mayhew jogged beside her, puffing away. “The poor boy, he’s so small and fragile. . .oh, and the mistress would be livid. . . .”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Mayhew reassured her, but privately, he was worried too. His mind kept going back to an incident that had happened in this very field when Victor was six. The little boy had been stranded out near the edges with a sprained ankle for a hour before anyone had realized he was missing. Mayhew would never forget seeing the boy when he was brought to the carriage – crying his eyes out and sniffling that he’d thought they were never going to come. . . . Well, at least this time I’m almost certain Scraps was able to get our attention a lot earlier, he thought, biting down on the stem of his pipe. Still, I really do hope this isn’t as bad as that was.
Scraps led them over to a little hill near the edge of the field, which was dotted with rabbit burrows. One of the burrows was rather larger than the others – why, no one was quite sure. And in that very hole was –
“Help! Somebody! I’m stuck!”
Mayhew couldn’t help himself – he burst out laughing. Victor was caught halfway in the hole, with his hindquarters sticking out. The boy was wriggling madly, unsuccessfully trying to work himself loose. Elizabeth had to clap her hands over her mouth to stifle her own giggles. “Oh, Victor. . . .”
“Miss Austen?” Victor suddenly went still. “Er – c-could you – could you p-please--”
“Don’t worry, Victor,” Mayhew said, finally managing to calm himself. “I’ll get you out.” He knelt by the boy’s side and dug out the edge of the hole a couple of inches before gripping Victor firmly by the waist. A quick tug, and Victor popped free. He was smeared with dirt and grass, but otherwise seemed no worse for wear. Scraps licked his master’s face as Victor took a few deep breaths. “All right, my boy?” Mayhew asked, pausing a moment to cough.
“Y-yes,” Victor said, turning pink under the dirt. “Thank you, Mayhew.”
“Goodness, Victor, whatever possessed you to invade a rabbit hole?” Elizabeth said, taking out her handkerchief and wiping off his face.
Victor lowered his eyes, looking quite embarrassed. “I – I was t-trying to reach Wonderland.”
Mayhew and Elizabeth stared for a moment. “You were what?” Mayhew repeated, rather puzzled.
“I was r-reading my new b-book, and – and the w-world it described sounded so l-lovely, that I. . . .” Victor began twisting his fingers together. “I saw this r-rabbit hole, and I thought, m-maybe, since it’s s-so much bigger t-than the others. . . .”
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “I should have never left you alone with that book,” she said. “I should have known your imagination would try to run away with you. Oh, you’ve ruined your new clothes.” She tried in vain to rub the mud off Victor’s sleeves. “Your mother is going to be very cross with you.”
“I know, M-Miss Austen,” Victor said, staring at the ground miserably. “I’m s-sorry for c-causing trouble.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.” Elizabeth helped him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go home and get you cleaned up.”
Mayhew tousled Victor’s hair. “You should be glad you didn’t get to Wonderland,” he teased, hoping to cheer the boy up. “The Queen of Hearts might have ordered your head cut off.”
“I wasn’t planning on g-going to play croquet with her,” Victor told him, shivering. “I thought I would s-spend some time at the tea party, with the H-Hatter and the March Hare and the Dormouse. I think I’d enjoy it b-better than Alice did – I’m u-used to insults from the other boys.” In a softer voice, he added, “I did see a bunch of funny colors for a moment, while I was stuck in there.”
“I think that might have been from lack of air,” was Elizabeth’s opinion. “You really must be more careful, Victor.”
Scraps suddenly started barking again, drawing everyone’s attention. “What is it, boy?” Victor said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.
Scraps glanced at him, then stared at a nearby fence. Everyone looked to see a grey cat with black stripes perched upon one of the posts, watching them with yellow-green eyes. It was a rather mangy-looking feline – thin enough for them to see its ribs, and with fur so short it was barely there. It also had an unusually large head and paws. It tilted its head and meowed at them, showing yellowed teeth. Scraps growled at it. “It’s just an old cat, Scraps,” Victor said, smiling and shaking his head. “I don’t think it’s even worth the bother to--”
He stopped abruptly, eyes going wide. “What – Mayhew, Miss Austen, did you see that?”
“See what?” Elizabeth replied, confused.
“The cat – it – Mayhew?” Victor asked, looking up at the driver.
Mayhew didn’t reply right away. He felt decidedly peculiar. The cat – for just a moment, it had looked like–
No. That was impossible. He shook his head. “It’s just some stray,” he said firmly, turning away. “We’d better be off before it decides to follow us and your mother has a fit.”
“But I thought I saw. . . .” Victor started, then let the sentence trail off as Mayhew shook his head again. The boy sighed and looked at Scraps. “I bet you saw it,” he muttered, to which Scraps barked and leaned against his leg. “Though perhaps I have been reading too much.”
“Victor! Come along!” Mayhew called over his shoulder.
“Coming!”
They collected Victor’s book and returned to the carriage without incident. Mayhew helped Victor and Elizabeth inside, then clambered into the driver’s seat to take them back to the house. He coughed for a minute, then looked back toward the field and the fence. The cat had left – a fact that made Mayhew very glad. That cat had unnerved him quite a lot just now. Made him start wondering about things that couldn’t be possible. And whether Victor really had been so foolish as to try and pop down a rabbit hole. Because, just for a moment –
He could have sworn he’d seen that cat grin.