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“And then what?!”
“Well,” Helen Kingsleigh grinned slyly, “then he insisted that the horses were meant to be ponies the whole time. Although his cheeks being as rosy as peonies that day told me otherwise. But I conceded it, considering my own father wanted me to marry him so badly. That evening he asked for my hand.”
Alice paused before turning to her mother, “but you loved him, didn’t you? Even though it was arranged?”
“Yes, I did. I did love him.” Helen nodded slowly. Then she breathed in, taking in the smell of salty air, before sighing deeply. “Oh, how I miss him. I miss him so greatly it aches my bones in the winter. But I don’t dwell on it anymore. I miss your sister, too, and the children. And oh, how I’ll miss this.”
As she gestured out towards the open sea, Alice quirked her brow. “Mother?”
“I’m getting old, Alice.” Her mother turned to face her. A gentle smile crept across her lips. “I think it’s time for this old bat to return home.”
Alice nodded. Although her mother’s request saddened her but she would not deny it. It was a miracle that Helen had accompanied her daughter at sea to begin with. Together, with Alice’s muchness and her mother’s quick tongue, they had secured passage to coastal cities in China, India, Japan, Manchuria, Sumatra, Russia, and even New Guinea. They had officially beaten the Ascots’ trading company two years prior. Her father’s legacy had been officially marked on the world map. Alice was proud to carry it, and Helen finally understood Alice's vision in its entirety. Mother and daughter had grown closer during their time at sea.
The journey back to London took a little over a month. Helen visibly longed for home. She often sat above deck in the early mornings watching the quiet sun rise over the eastern horizon. Alice was surprised that she hadn’t jumped for joy when the tiny blip of England’s coast made itself visible in the distance.
Margaret was overjoyed to have her family home, of course. The little ones had grown since Alice last saw them. It was a reminder that Time had not forgotten about her, even though nearly seven years had passed. That, and the way her face had grown into itself whenever she looked in the mirror, told her that she had seen plenty of days at sea and not one night of a silk pillow. At first, the worry lines between her eyes unnerved her, until she realized one day that just like her mother’s, hers looked like they belonged there.
Six months after their return, Helen came down with a cough. It was innocent at first. She still visited the trades office down in the harbor whenever Alice was working. Mr. Harcourt had come up with some grand ideas for their next venture, and she was eager to listen in on them.
Then came the dizzy spells. Soon she was bedbound, unable to walk much farther than the front parlor without help. Margaret had opened her home to Alice and her mother; the two sisters took turns caring for her when the maids were off doing their duties. Helen’s face grew pallid with each coming day until the coughing fits became too much. She was lulled into a medicated slumber for most of the waking hours in order to stop them.
Alice remembered thinking that the skies seemed awfully grey the day her mother died. It was a quiet death, and for this she was thankful. Her father’s death had been a long struggle between his will to live and his weak constitution. She often thought back to her mother, sitting alone at the ship railings, searching the seas for something.
Perhaps she knew her time was coming.
Helen Kingsleigh was buried in the family lot alongside her husband. After the funeral, Alice had noticed a sharper tongue from her sister in addition to a newly equipped cold shoulder. It only took a few weeks for a fight to erupt between them. Margaret accused her sister of bringing on their mother’s death.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Alice had gasped. “She was ill. I had nothing to do with it.”
“If you hadn’t insisted she tag along on your pointless endeavors, she might still be here!” Margaret nearly screamed. Tears and snot pooled above her upper lip. “She was delicate, Alice, and you took her to sea! Exposed her to the world’s ailments and the like!”
Alice straightened her posture, clenching her jaw in hopes of maintaining all rationale. “Fine, Margaret, believe what you’d like. I will say that I’m disappointed that you’d think so lowly of our mother. She was never made of glass. She was the fire which forges it.”
Alice had her bags packed that evening. Luckily she didn’t have much. She rented a room and sulked amongst the borrowed furniture. Alice only wished her mother was still alive. She didn’t think she could face her sister again after her baseless accusation. It wounded her more than anything.
A small flower of guilt bloomed in her chest. Alice sighed, “but what if Margaret’s right?”
“She’s not, you silly girl.” Came a smooth, rich voice in her ear.
Her head pivoted as if on a swivel. Glancing around for the source of the voice, Alice could have sworn she heard him right there. Not only that, but she’d recognize that voice anywhere! Standing in the center of her room, she searched each nook and cranny for a certain blue bug.
“Absolem?” She called. “Are you here?”
“Unfortunately.” His voice echoed again.
There, from behind a goblet decorating the mantle, crawled a brilliantly blue butterfly. Absolem flapped his wings impatiently, as if he had made himself obvious the entire time.
“What brings you?” Alice asked, allowing him to crawl onto her finger. He wriggled his antennae at her.
He sighed, “Myself and the Queen offer our condolences regarding your mother.”
“You knew?” This surprised her. “How?”
“Because of the looking glass, you stupid girl.” Absolem sniffed. He fluttered towards it.
Alice furrowed her brow, grateful for her friends’ thoughts yet uncomfortable that they’d been watching without her knowing. How much of her life - her most private moments - was put on display to Underland? She asked carefully, “Have you been watching?”
“Not me.” He seemed offended.
“Then who?”
“The very person who sent me.” Absolem landed on the gold, spiral edges of the mirror’s frame. “Come, now, Alice, don’t be daft.”
“But who-” She cut herself off. Ah, she understood now. “Hatter?”
I miss him so greatly it makes my bones ache in the winter. That was what her mother had said about her father so many months ago. She hadn’t voiced it at the time, but she knew what her mother meant. Alice felt the very same longing herself. She tucked it away, allowing it to ember only when she was alone during the darkest times of each night. A certain hatter, whose emerald eyes haunted her in every gem she saw, every lagoon she ventured into, crowding the recesses of her mind when it dared to wander.
She had not seen his face in seven years. Every once in a while, in her dreams, she’d heard his voice - far off in the distance somewhere, but never close enough to make him feel real. During her most private moments, she felt the ghost of his touch. Alice liked to think that he was feeling for her, too. He was her truest friend.
A warm blush crept up her neck. He’d been watching her. He remained her constant companion even beyond the mirror.
“Why call for me now?” Alice asked. “What ever is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter.” The butterfly reaffirmed. “It’s simply an invitation.”
“To what?” She had a feeling she knew where this was going. The butterfly twitched his wings, wordless. “I can’t, Absolem, I- well, there’s still so much to do here! Our trading company, it’s doing better than ever! I can’t give it up now.”
“You don’t have to rattle on about your excuses to me.” He sniffed. “I truly am sorry about your mother. For what it’s worth, you look exactly like her.”
Absolem floated in the air, then to the looking glass, before eventually vanishing through it. You look exactly like her, Alice cupped her cheek and stared at her reflection as his words echoed in the empty room. She smiled at herself and tried to imagine her mother looking back at her.
She sat in the quiet for a long time, contemplating the looking glass. To go would be impulsive, mad, bonkers! There was so much left to do. The company was under her and Mr. Harcourt’s guidance now. Alice could not leave. She couldn’t! Not after everything she’d built for herself, not after trying so hard to make her father proud. What would her mother say, if she were here?
I miss him so greatly it makes my bones ache in the winter.
“Don’t be silly, Alice,” She chastised herself. “You can’t give up your entire life for Underland.”
Still, she glanced longingly at the looking glass. Hesitantly, she stood from her chair and crept over to it. Alice slowly reached for its surface. The pads of her fingertips met the cold, smooth glass. Only the smudges of her fingerprints were left when she pulled her hand away. Alice's confused face gaped back at her.
“What?” She whispered. The looking glass was only that - a looking glass! There was no portal or doorway to faraway lands. But how? She saw Absolem fly through it with her very eyes! Alice flopped back onto her chair and laughed to herself. Had she gone mad with grief? Was Absolem ever there at all? Perhaps it was for the best if he wasn’t.
Her heart leapt at the idea of seeing her friends again. How she’d missed them terribly. But there couldn’t possibly be a future for her anywhere else other than here. To consider anything else felt reckless.
That night, as she laid in bed, she felt the beginnings of her dreams begin to reveal themselves. Despite this, she was still awake enough to hear the crackle of the dying fire in the mantel, and thus awake enough to hear a strange whispering behind her. Drowsily, she listened to it, its hushed murmuring melding into the half-dream state she found herself in.
“Oidhche mhath, mo Alice.”
“Hm?” She mumbled sleepily. Then she heard her name again. Opening her eyes, Alice sat up and glanced around. Was she imagining things again?
“Alice, Alice, Alice- !” Came the voice again, fainter than before. Alice’s eyes opened wide, her sleepiness now gone. She definitely was not imagining things!
The looking glass shimmered in the low light of the fire. Her lips fell open in surprise. Quickly she stood, clambering over the mattress to stand in front of the glass. She waited for it to stir.
“Hello?” Alice asked. “It’s me, Alice.”
“Alice!” The voice spoke again. Then, nearly as hazy as smoke, appeared the image of green eyes on the glass’ surface. “Alice, it really is you!”
She could not help the smile that broke across her face: “Hatter?!”
Alice squinted to capture the full image of the Hatter’s face, but it looked muddled and engulfed in shadow. She could see the outline of his hat, cushioned in the silhouette of untamable curls. The jade glint of his eyes made the reflection look eerie. If it weren’t for her knowing for sure it was him, she would have assumed him to be a wraith.
“I can’t believe it’s you! You look so..” Hatter’s voice was muffled, as if he was speaking to her from underwater. Alice waited for him to finish his sentence. Did she look older? Greyer? More frayed at the edges? Beyond the dark shape of him, she peered at her own faded reflection.
Suddenly she felt self-conscious. She hadn’t expected to be seen half-awake.
“..so much muchier! Yes, the appropriate muchness for an Alice, indeed.”
Alice smiled softly, “I wish I could see you, but I can’t.”
“I understand, Alice. Looking Glass isn’t as nearly as reliable as one would expect.” Hatter shook his head.
“I suppose not.”
There was a pause.
“Listen, Hatter,” Alice began carefully, “Absolem told me something earlier today. He said someone has been watching me. Is that you?”
Hatter rumbled, choked, guffawed. “Alice, I- Well-”
“You are my truest friend, Hatter. You should have told me.” She scolded him lightly. “I would have allowed it. I only wish I knew what you saw.”
Hatter fumbled over his words: “I only hoped to protect you, Alice, to watch over you and make sure you were alright. And the matter is, well- well the fact of the matter is that I -”
“I’ve missed you, you know.” She finished his sentence for him. “I always thought of you.”
He seemed breath-taken by her confession. Alice, with all of her muchness and the like, was a woman now. She had sailed the open seas, had beared witness to the cruelty of death, illness, and poverty, and had learned more about herself in the wake of his absence than if she were to have stayed in Underland all those years ago. When he did not reply, she only chewed her lip, but did not shy away from him.
I miss you so greatly it makes my bones ache in the winter.
“Alice?” The Hatter whispered.
“Yes?”
“I missed you, yes, and I always thought of you, too. I still do.” She could see the rise of his shoulders as he breathed. “I still am. Won’t you come back to me, my Alice?”
Her heart writhed. Alice’s mouth fell open, her own reflection gaping back at her to show she’d been caught in a visual riptide between one world and the other. My Alice, his words ensnared her like a vine barbed with thorns, gripped her every facet until it was the only thing she could feel. And feel them she could, licking a warm heat that bloomed in her chest and purred in her belly.
“I can’t-” She began, her resolve weak already, “not now. Besides, the looking glass had closed earlier when I tried. And what about the company?”
“I.. understand.” He said slowly. “Fairfarren for now, Alice. Perhaps our thoughts will build us a bridge closer together.”
“Hatter, wait!” Alice reached for the mirror, only to bump her knuckles against the glass. He was gone, as quick as he’d come.
Even as she laid in bed again, she stared at the mirror, trying to imagine his face there. Her mind replayed the conversation over and over, savoring the lilt of his voice and the soft glow of his eyes against the shadowed curve of his jaw. How she had wished she could’ve taken his hand, guided him through and over the mantle. How she wished things could be so simple.
That night, in the Palace of Dreams, she dreamt of his hands. His fingers were in her hair, his palms against her arms, pushing and pulling. Still, she could not see him.
“When you said you were watching,” She asked, “how much did you see?”
“Everything.” He replied. She felt the pads of his fingers dance along her collarbone as the air in her lungs escaped her in a heady gasp.
When she awoke again, she found herself alone, sweaty amongst the tangle of pillows and quilts. It was morning but she wished she could rewind Time to make it night again.
Alice finally braved getting dressed and returning to the trading post. On the way there she searched every shop window for a glimpse of him. Alice half-cursed herself for her confession last night, because it had driven her to distraction.
Mr. Harcourt's broad smile was a welcoming sight that morning. She had not yet broken the news to him that she had moved out of her sister’s house. Perhaps gossip had reached him before Alice did.
“Good morning, Ms. Kingsleigh.” He said from his desk. “I trust your way in this morning was pleasant enough.”
“It was indeed, Mr. Hartcourt. Thank you.” Alice thumbed through some paperwork meaninglessly. Again she thought of the Hatter and his fingers stained with dye. “Any exciting news to be had?”
He seemed to hesitate. “I suppose I have some, yes. We’ve been invited to stand before the Tsar once more this upcoming year. It’ll be a dreary winter, I’m afraid.”
Alice blinked her surprise. She had not expected to be invited back to Imperial Russia. They had last left with a contract, yes, but it was a terse matter. The cold was as oppressive as its rulers. An invitation was revolutionary and would surely be the talk of London’s business if they accepted.
Still, Alice’s boots felt bolted to the floor.
“That’s certainly exciting.” She validated. “What an honor we’ve received to be given such an opportunity. Clearly we made a better first impression than we thought.”
“Rightly so, Ms. Kingsleigh.” Mr. Harcourt stood from his chair to lean against her desk beside her. Their shoulders brushed against each other. “I’m sure the Queen will find our position favorable.”
She caught a whiff of his cologne: cognac scented with cigar smoke and sandalwood. It was calming enough only because it reminded her of her father. Alice took a calculated step away.
Alice may have been inexperienced in matters of love, but she was not oblivious. Mr. Harcourt, having been beside her for numerous years at that point, had grown quite attached to her. And she supposed she to him, but in a different way. Mr. Harcourt was reliable in matters of business and he did not look down his nose at her for being a woman. Lately, Alice had noticed that his gazes lingered longer than usual. She could feel him watching her even when she was not directly looking at him.
She had considered him, truth be told. Not vocally, of course, but by trying to imagine herself beside him in a manner friendlier than that of the matters of business. Her mother had tried to worm the idea into her head once or twice before. He was not necessarily above or equal to her station, but he was smart with money and would look past her age.
And yet, when she tried to imagine him beside her in the dark, she could not.
“We’ll be the talk of the ton.” Alice agreed. “So long as they haven’t heard from my sister first.”
“Your sister Margaret?” He quirked a brow at her. Alice sighed.
She confessed: “I’ve moved into apartments of my own. I suppose that’s rather scandalous of me.”
Mr. Harcourt snorted, “Nothing you do is scandalous to me anymore.”
“Say, Mr. Harcourt,” Alice began carefully, “this journey to the Tsar.. would it be incredibly offensive if I sent an apprentice in my stead?”
His eyes lit up with surprise. Alice never turned down an opportunity to represent the company. Slowly, he said, “I suppose not. Although to send an apprentice, we’ll firstly need to hire one. What’s brought you to that idea?”
“There are some things I need to think about.” She offered vaguely. “Some choices I need to make.”
The weeks passed. Margaret had not reached out to her sister - not by being called upon or by letter. This only festered Alice’s wound even further. They had never gone so long without speaking to one another. Alice missed the comfort of her sister’s company, despite how different they were from one another.
Every so often, always in the late night, the Hatter’s dark silhouette would materialize in the looking glass above her mantle. It was time they would spend curating careful conversation filled with gentle teasing and the occasional meticulously placed double entendre. Alice began to feel his influence clinging to her when he was gone. During the days following the consequence of lost sleep, she would find herself glancing for long periods of time into space, trying to reincarnate the rush of sitting before him in nothing but her shift. Their conversations were somehow simultaneously deeply intimate and frustratingly casual. It drove her to near madness. Soon her thoughts were all encompassing. It consumed her every moment, both awake and asleep.
The day Kingsleigh & Kingsleigh onboarded a new apprentice was nearly the day Alice packed her bags and left. She had decided, after enough mornings awoken in a sweaty daze brought on by her dreams, that she would be leaving for Underland.
“Mr. Nicholas Harker,” Mr. Harcourt said finally, “I congratulate you on your acquired position with us.”
“Thank you, sir.” The young man bowed his head. “I’m very pleased to have the opportunity.”
Alice examined the way his cheeks stretched with his smile and how he bowed a little too quickly. She remembered feeling that excited for her future as a young woman. Glancing around their office, Alice felt a soothing sense of peace with her success. Her name - her father’s name - would live on, and so would her work. Weeks ago the thought of leaving made her clammy and anxious. Now she felt satisfied. She had chosen the young Mr. Harker, a newly accredited student of commerce. Mr. Harcourt would earn a majority of her shares and he could mold his new apprentice into a suitable partner.
The weather had grown cold as October had peeled back the very last remnants of summer. Aside from their conversation many months ago, Alice had not confided to Mr. Harcourt about her plans. The afternoon before their departure, just before the day had begun to pass, Alice called him to her desk.
“Ms. Kingsleigh - Alice! - where on earth did this come from?” He boggled at her when she broke the news. “Are you sure? Such a major decision! When did you come to this? Surely you’re requiring some sort of benefit for this transaction.”
“I told you that I had some choices to make.” She said firmly. “I’ve no need for money where I’m going. I trust you to take care of things, James. You’ve been an incredible asset. As per written in the contract, I only require you keep the name as Kingsleigh & Kingsleigh. Besides that, you are rewarded all assets until you find Mr. Harker an acceptable level of competency. Then you may divide the shares as you please.”
He glanced at her seriously. “It is your wish?”
“It is.” Alice nodded.
Mr. Harcourt rubbed his chin. It was a lot to digest before his trip to Russia. “And where is it that you’ll be going? Perhaps we can keep in touch. I’ll write to you.”
She smiled, “I’m afraid it will not be possible. When you return to Russia, Mr. Harcourt, I will no longer be in London. But I will think of you often, James; of your friendly companionship and of your skilled service. What a privilege it was to travel beside you for so many years.”
They embraced briefly and shared a drink of scotch in celebration. Before the post closed for the evening, Alice traced her fingers along the edges of the wallpapered office, memorizing the smell of ash and parchment and tea which clung to it. She will forever be proud of herself for accomplishing the impossible. During her walk home that evening, she spotted a blue butterfly fluttering in the breeze. She smiled to herself. There would only be one such insect mulling about in the cold. But she was not ready yet.
Alice found herself in front of the Manchester estate the next morning. Its manicured hedges and white columns loomed over her with an unexpected intimidation. She chewed on her lip before making her presence known.
“Lady Manchester was not expecting visitors this morning.” A servant said. Behind him, children laughed loudly.
“I’m her sister.” Alice stated. “Tell her it’s important. I will wait in the parlor.”
Lowell Manchester, of course, was nowhere to be found. Her nieces - two of them now - smiled girlishly at the sight of their aunt. They pulled at her skirts and asked her all sorts of questions about the world with dizzying enthusiasm. Achingly, Alice noted that they looked exactly like her sister.
“Alice.” Came a voice from the staircase.
Her sister Margaret stood still at the top stair. The curt expression she wore made Alice think of their mother. Helen Kingsleigh had done a spectacular job of creating a proper woman out of Margaret. In a way, Alice was mature enough to find pride in that.
“Margaret.” Alice greeted. They stared at one another uneasily. Then she said: “I’ve come to say goodbye. I am leaving to permanently reside elsewhere. It is a place far from here.”
Margaret took a moment to absorb what Alice had said before her stony resolve visibly crumbled. She blinked a few times and expressed the disappointed surprise on her face. As much as Alice hated to admit it, she was glad her sister was upset to hear that she was leaving.
They sat for tea in an adjacent room. The air was awkward and the silence was unbroken at first. Alice eventually finished her first cup before speaking.
“I’ve come to tell you that I do not blame you for thinking ill of me.” She began. “I suppose I am partially to blame for not bringing Mother home sooner. I believe she deserved to spend more time here with you all.”
“I am sorry, Alice.” Margaret sighed defeatedly. “I should not have blamed you for her death. It is nobody’s fault.”
“I’m sorry for not writing to you.” Alice curled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Even at her age, as was proper in London, she refused to wear it up every day. “I was upset. We both miss her terribly. I will mourn her for the rest of my life.”
The two of them listened to the fire crackle. Margaret asked quietly: “Tell me where it is that you’re going.”
Alice glanced at her sister. She had grown accustomed to lying about her time in Underland. Nobody believed her, and she spent much of her life trying to convince herself of it being real. Margaret however never judged her sister, despite Alice being the odd one. Even when she never truly believed it.
“Wonderland.” Alice whispered excitedly. “I’m leaving for Wonderland.”
Margaret looked at her perplexed. “How on earth does one get there?”
“It’s a secret.” She grinned. “One day, I’ll show you.”
“When will you leave?”
Alice turned towards the looking glass. “In just a few minutes.”
Alice knew by the look on her face that her sister was concerned. She knew that, to the average person, her words sounded like madness. The reflection of the glass shimmered in the light of the window.
“Margaret,” Alice looked at her sister with a sense of finality, “I have always been grateful to you. You are kindhearted. Our parents are incredibly proud of you, wherever they are. Mother especially. You look just like her, with your hair done up like that. Your girls remind me of us when we were young. I will miss you. When I sew my clothes horribly, I will think about how you do it better. I will miss your blueberry tarts. You are the best sister. I love you, Margaret.”
Margaret’s eyes grew glassy. She swallowed, taking her sister’s hand in her own. “Alice, I love you too. Please be safe wherever you go. Why don’t you let me send you off?”
Alice smiled. “Of course. But first: a hug.”
Their embrace was much warmer than her embrace with Mr. Harcourt. She smelled the perfume in her sister’s hair and tried to commit it to her memory. Perhaps Underland would have a flower that smells just like it. She could grow it in a garden, and keep Margaret close to her heart forever. Margaret squeezed her youngest sister close in a way that made Alice feel like a little girl again.
“I must use your powder room. May I?” Alice asked when she pulled away. Margaret nodded. Wiping away a stray tear, Alice tucked a curly strand of hair behind Margaret’s ear before leaving the room. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, taking in the image of her sister glancing distantly into the fire.
She hugged her nieces tight on the way there and told them to always behave and to never give their mother any trouble. The powder room was on the first floor, past the dining room and the kitchen. Alice walked inside, closing the door behind her, before standing in front of the looking glass.
“I’m ready.” Alice said quietly to herself, wiping her palms against the front of her skirts. Nerves always did make her sweat. “I’m ready to leave.”
She reached towards the looking glass. The cold surface molded to her hand, wrapping around her fingers and swallowing her wrist like cool water on a hot day. Crawling over the counter, Alice pushed herself forwards, and fell through it.