Ivy: Daughter of Alice

by J. A. Armitage

  I clasped my hands together, searching for the right thing to say. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”

  Mr. Thackery stared at me in disbelief, then snorted. “Apart from my life back? My daughter is on the verge of death, sick from the damp darkness of the tunnels. I lost my home because I couldn’t pay the rent. My business might not have succeeded, according to your esthetic measures, but I paid my way. Now…” Mr. Thackery turned away, fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the moisture that had filled his eyes.

  “When the Queen disappeared, I thought things would change.” He shook his head. “Things are just as bad now as they ever were. Mark my words—”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  A set of footsteps made Mr. Thackery jerk. He looked around, wide-eyed, and shrank away from me. “It’s the Hearts! They’re coming.”

  A jolt of fear tore through me, and I froze, listening for the sound. All I could hear, though, was the sound of footsteps a short way away. It didn’t have the steady robotic frequency of the Hearts.

  “Mr. Thackery…” I reached out to touch his arm, to slow him down.

  “Don’t say my name,” he hissed. “Don’t talk to me. I can’t be seen with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s back. Or she will be soon.” Mr. Thackery turned away, hunching over as though trying to disappear under the worn collar of his coat as he moved along the back alley. I started after him.

  “I only want to help you,” I called out.

  “I can’t risk my family again. I won’t.”

  I leaned against the wall, defeated, watching Mr. Thackery’s retreating figure as he hurried away.

  It was only then that I noticed the painted form of the white rabbit on the wall opposite.

  I ran a finger over the motif. A white rabbit with a black bow tie, black waistcoat, and its ears stuck out from under a top hat. It seemed to sniff the air, one paw curled up as though it was mid-stride.

  My mind turned over the puzzle again. One of many that I just couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Follow the white rabbit, the starving vampire had said when faced with his injured customer. Raven had promised to tell me more about the white rabbit if I brought him information about Alice’s movements. Perhaps, if I found the white rabbit for myself, I could solve the puzzle and keep Alice safe. I flipped open my pocket watch. There was plenty of daylight left. Still, I felt a twinge of regret at the thought of breaking my word to Alice. She’d only worry about my safety.

  I studied the white rabbit motif again. Follow the white rabbit. The words echoed in my mind, and I wondered if they should be taken literally. I turned in the direction the white rabbit seemed to face and started walking, meandering along the narrow backstreet, searching for any hint of another painted rabbit.

  I walked two blocks before seeing the painted tuft of a fluffy tail. I knelt down next to it and saw the body of the rabbit curving around the corner of the building. A smile touched my lips as I brushed my fingers against the painting. They came away tacky, smudged with white paint.

  This rabbit was freshly painted.

  I kept walking, keeping my eyes to the base of the buildings on each side of the street, determined not to miss the next clue.

  I stopped on the corner, waiting for a steam carriage to pass by, before hurrying down the next block. Then, across the street, I saw another rabbit on the bottom of a wall.

  I crossed the street to get a closer look, but as I bent over and brushed my fingers over the paint, I noticed that it had been hastily obscured with a few strokes of black. Was someone trying to obscure the clues? Or perhaps correcting the route?

  I took my hand away, noticing that it left no residue of paint on my hands. Perhaps this marking was old? I wiped my hands together, looking back in the direction I’d come from. If I kept going, would I find another clue that way? Or should I turn the corner here?

  “Are you all right, dear?”

  I jerked, as an older woman put her hand on my arm. I’d been standing on the street corner, staring into space.

  “Are you lost?” she asked.

  I shook my head. I needed to decide. I was drawing too much attention by loitering in one place, staring around.

  “Are you sure? These streets can be quite confusing, I find.” The woman frowned, her hand still on my arm.

  “No, I’m fine. I was just…looking for…” I clamped my mouth shut, stopping myself from revealing any more, then lifted my chin. I pried my arm away from her. “I was getting my bearings. I know where I’m headed. Thank you for your concern.”

  Without looking back, I left the obscured rabbit behind and walked back across the street to continue to follow the clues.

  The white rabbit crouched next to an otherwise unremarkable door—this was the sign I’d been looking for.

  Another white rabbit.

  I walked toward the door, then threw a look over my shoulder. No one noticed me. I tapped on the door.

  I waited, pleating the folds of my skirts between my fingers, but no one answered.

  I turned my head and pressed my ear to the door, listening for any noise from inside. I couldn’t hear anything.

  I stepped back, looking up at the windows of the first story. The curtains were drawn, but a movement caught my eye as one of them fluttered. I stared at the window, but the movement didn’t happen again.

  I looked down at the white rabbit painting on the wall, lying down and looking at the doorway. So far, following the paintings of the white rabbit had led me here. Staring at the rabbit, I had the strongest feeling that I should step through the doorway.

  I hesitated, wondering what to do. Then I turned the door handle. The door clicked open and

  swung inward. I paused, expecting someone to call out or try to stop me.

  Nothing happened.

  I threw another glance over my shoulder as I stepped inside.

  In the entrance hall, a large vase of sunflowers greeted me. I leaned closer to breathe in their scent but was startled by a crackling sound. A voice spoke:

  “How did you get here?”

  I jumped, spinning around to identify the voice, but I couldn’t see anyone. Then I peered at the sunflower, noticing the sunflower’s face move as I did.

  “Did you say that?” I asked it, a blush rising to my cheeks. Was I talking to a flower?

  “How did you find this place?” the voice spoke again. This time, I noticed a shiny surface in the center of the sunflower. A camera?

  “I followed the white rabbit,” I replied.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? Take the stairs down one floor.”

  Then the sound disappeared, and the sunflower tipped forward, as though bowing its head. Rejecting the urge to inspect the sunflower—to pull it apart to see how it worked—I walked past the side table and lay a hand on the staircase that wound downwards. I took the stairs one at a time, descending into what appeared to be a dark basement.

  When I got to the bottom, a small strip of flickering light glowed underneath a doorway. I

  paused, then pushed. The door swung open without resistance.

  In the room, a line of people were standing against the far wall, looking pale. In the center, a man lay on a bench, while another bent over him.

  As the door opened, everyone’s heads swiveled towards me.

  The man bending over the bench straightened up. An older man with gray hair and a mustache and a stethoscope hanging around his neck put an eyeglass back over one eye as he peered at me.

  “Emergency?” he asked.

  I frowned, my eyes flickering to the person lying on the bench with his shirt laid open to reveal his bare chest. “I’m looking for the white rabbit.”

  The man stared at me, then waved a hand. “Wait over there.” He turned his attention back to the unconscious, bare-chested man.

  I hesitated a moment, then shuffled over to stand at the end of the line, lean
ing against the wall, as I watched. The man with the stethoscope appeared to be a doctor, though this was not the city hospital.

  I watched him stitch a deep cut on the man’s open chest. Then, as the line shuffled forward, he examined a rash, pulled a tooth, treated an earache, cleaned and dressed an infected wound, and set a splint for a broken leg.

  It was over an hour later, and I was the last in line when the doctor turned to me.

  “What ails you, young lady,” the doctor asked.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I replied. “I’m looking for the white rabbit.”

  The doctor set his eyeglass into place as he took a step closer and peered at my face. “Why?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth, then shut it again, at a loss for words. Why? “Because…”

  Because I need to solve the riddle about the white rabbit. Because I want to find out if the rumors about the white rabbit recruiting supporters for the Queen of Hearts are true. Because I have to know if the Red Queen is really returning. Because I can’t sacrifice Alice’s safety.

  And because I must find out more about Raven.

  He frowned. “You’re not ill?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Why were you told to seek out the white rabbit?”

  “Nobody told me. I just followed the signs.”

  The doctor rubbed his hands down the front of his shirt. “What’s your name, young lady?”

  I hesitated, wondering whether I should give a false name. Then I decided against it. I wanted information from this man. I would not get him to trust me by lying to him.

  “Ivy Rowntree, sir,” I replied, bobbing a polite curtsy.

  “Rowntree?” The doctor looked me over, interested. “Alice Rowntree’s daughter?”

  I nodded. “Do you know my mother?”

  A blush rose to the doctor’s cheeks. He looked away and popped out his eyeglass to clean it with the tail of his shirt, before putting it back in his eye again. “I did, once. A long time ago. How old are you, young lady?”

  I frowned. “I turned eighteen this year,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

  “Eighteen,” the doctor murmured, and his gaze drifted away to a point in the distance. “You don’t look like your mother.”

  I pursed my lips. “No, my twin sister is more like my mother,” I replied. I’d always assumed that I take after my father, though I’d never met him, and Alice had never spoken of him.

  The doctor gawked. “Twins?” His voice hitched a little higher. He turned away and busied himself with his instruments, picking things up to clean them before putting them down again.

  “So, do you know?” I asked when he said nothing else.

  “Know what?”

  “I need to find the white rabbit. Do you know where he is?”

  “Oh,” the doctor turned back to me. “I’m the white rabbit,” he said and held out a hand. “Dr. Wit Lapin, at your service.”

  Dr. Lapin clasped my hand, then motioned toward the door.

  “Please, come upstairs,” he said. “It’s not very comfortable down here. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

  I followed Wit up a flight of stairs to the first-floor landing, then through a door and into a small sitting room. From brief glimpses through other open doorways, I saw several other people who appeared to be living there too. They were all pale, with dark smudges under their eyes, and threadbare, patched clothes.

  Wit bade me sit, and I settled myself in one of two armchairs—its material worn down almost to nothing on the armrests as he poured the tea. As I took the saucer, chipped on the edge, a plume of steam curled up from the cup. I sipped at it, the liquid burning my lips, as I tried to quiet the swirl of questions in my mind.

  The cup chinked as I set it down on the saucer.

  “So you have returned,” I said.

  “You solved the riddle,” Wit said, at the same time. We looked at each other, then Wit sank into the armchair across from me. He rubbed his hands together, pursing his lips. “Many people here won’t remain, now that you have discovered our location.”

  “Are they like the people in the tunnels? Homeless?” I asked.

  Dr. Lapin frowned, leaning forward. “How do you know about them?”

  I felt the warmth of a blush spread across my cheeks. “Mr. Cappello showed me.”

  Wit’s eyes widened. “You know Raven?”

  I nodded.

  Wit studied me, his expression serious. “I suppose if Raven trusts you…”

  There was a sharp knocking at the door, and another figure appeared in the doorway. It was a woman with long, wavy dark hair, wearing gold loop earrings and dressed in an unusual dress with long layers and oversized sleeves that flowed as she moved.

  “Dr. Lapin, here you are!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “If you’ve finished seeing patients, may I speak with you? I need…”

  Wit and I both stood, turning toward the woman in the doorway. She trailed off, suddenly noticing me.

  “I didn’t know you had company.”

  Wit cleared his throat. “Miss Rowntree, allow me to introduce you to Her Royal Highness, Princess Gaia of the Kingdom of Badalah. Princess, this is Ivy Rowntree, daughter of President Rowntree of The Forge.”

  My eyes widened as I took in the princess. Her eyes had a gold ring around the iris, just like mine. I’d never seen it in anyone else before. I dropped into a deep curtsy. “Pleased to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” I murmured.

  Gaia inclined her head. There was something strange about the way she looked at me, as though she knew me. Curiosity came over her features however, she turned to Wit. “I wish to continue our conversation from the other night if you have a moment?”

  Wit glanced at me, clearly wondering whether he might escape our conversation. If I excused myself, he might have vacated this building by the time I returned. No, I couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.

  “Dr. Lapin and I were in the middle of something important,” I said, looking the princess in the eye. Her golden-ringed irises had me on edge

  Gaia looked surprised at my boldness. Then her cool mask slipped into place. “You’re the President’s daughter? The one who lives on the esthetic stipend? Or the daughter who enforces it?”

  I gritted my teeth as a hot flush of shame washed over me. I couldn’t find the words to respond. Gaia turned back to Wit. “I know The Forge has many problems, but I am desperate. I need that potion.”

  “Potion?” I narrowed my eyes, looking from Gaia to Wit, remembering the work he was doing downstairs. “What are you doing here, Dr. Lapin?” My voice rang out louder than it should have, over Gaia’s commanding tone.

  Wit’s eyes widened, and he put a finger to his lips. As he did so, the sounds of movement and life in the rooms around us fell silent. Wit closed the door and bade me sit down. He found another chair for Gaia, and the man who stood behind her, who I’d barely noticed in the shadow of Gaia’s commanding presence—a bodyguard, I guessed.

  “I knew your mother, once,” Wit started, wiping his eyeglass with his handkerchief, then putting it back into place. “She had a good heart, and I believe she will have brought you up with her capacity for compassion and her duty to the right thing. So I shall trust you, too. I must insist that you do not repeat these words to anyone who does not know the truth of the white rabbit. Or it will put more people than myself in danger. Do you understand?”

  First Raven, and now Wit, demanded my silence before they would speak about their secrets. Narrowing my eyes, I hesitated, then nodded. “I’m not here to arrest anyone,” I said. “I came here because…” I thought about Alice and my determination that I wouldn’t put her in danger to satisfy my curiosity. Then I remembered Mr. Thackery and my attempt to see him this morning. “I’m here to make amends. I didn’t understand that my actions in upholding the esthetic laws had affected people in this way.”

  “What did you think was happening to the people who lost their livelihoods?” Gaia asked, h
er tone acerbic. Her bodyguard touched her arm in a familiar gesture. Gaia looked at him. “I won’t pretend that Baladah is perfect—far from it. We have poverty enough in my kingdom, but at least we don’t pretend that the poor don’t exist.”

  I swallowed, focusing on Wit and not looking at Gaia. “You were saying?”

  Wit rubbed his hands together and settled back in his chair. “You may not know this, but I once worked for the Queen of Hearts. I was one of her loyal advisors. I had some training in the art of apothecary, and the Queen—the former Queen, I should say—engaged me to concoct beauty potions for her. She wanted to be the most beautiful woman in The Forge—every day, she was determined to be more beautiful than the day before. I was charged with making it happen.

  “I had no choice, you see. I worked tirelessly for beauty, under the threat of death. The former Queen was prone to chopping off the heads of those who displeased her. So, I searched for the ingredient that would smooth her wrinkles, brighten her skin tone, shine her hair, and slim her figure. No sooner had I found one solution than I was told to find another, better, potion. She imagined imperfections, even when there were none.

  “The former Queen always wanted things immediately, and I was always late.” Wit paused, looking down at the hands in his lap, the fingers now swollen in the joints, and the backs of his hands marked with age spots. “At first, it was a privileged position. I lived a life of luxury, as long as I stayed in the Queen’s good graces. That was hard enough. Then I tired of the work. I desired to help the people—the ill or injured. The Queen shunned these people and forced them into the fringes of society. Or beheaded them.