by Gwynn White
“But the air was quite cool this morning. Please, let Alice and me deliver your work.”
Bess waved her hand at him. “Henry—”
“Bess, please stay inside until it’s truly warm,” Henry said.
“Fine, fine,” Bess said dismissively then turned once more to me. “Tell me, what does it look like?”
“I didn’t go in, but from what I could see, it looked like…like a world inside a raindrop.”
Bess smiled wistfully as she sat back in her seat. “You have such a way with words, Alice. Such images,” she said then turned to Henry. “She used to tell me fabulous stories when we were children.”
Henry smiled.
“Nonsense tales,” I said with a grin.
“Certainly the tale of the lobster ball, attended by snails, fish, and turtles, all lorded over by King Gryphon, was very fanciful. But what an imagination. I think many children would like to hear such stories.”
“You flatter me.”
“Just as much as you deserve. But no more than that. Wouldn’t want you getting an ego,” she said jokingly with a quick laugh, but when she did so, she began to cough. Soon it took over her. Her whole body rattled as she hacked. Henry rose quickly to grab her some water while I grabbed her syrup from the counter. Bess coughed hard into her handkerchief. When her coughs finally subsided, she took the cup from Henry and sipped it while I poured her a dose of the draft. I couldn’t help but notice as she set the handkerchief in her lap that there was blood on it.
“The winter cough is still lingering,” she whispered between sips.
Henry and I exchanged worried glances but said nothing.
“Here,” I said, offering her a dose of the medicine which she took without hesitation.
When I went to put the little amber bottle away, I eyed the liquid inside. Hadn’t the bottle been full last week? It was almost empty. I’d need to stop by the apothecary.
“Do you want tea?” Henry asked her.
Bess shook her head. “No, no, the soup will help. Sit, sit, both of you. Please. I’m all right. Don’t make a fuss. Now, Alice, tell us what else you saw.”
“A parade of mechanical creatures. Elephants, horses, lions, all made of metal and clockwork,” I said with a smile. “Lord Dodgson is planning a visit this week. He mentioned that he might take me along,” I lied. There was no way I could visit such a place and not tell my sister about it. But I did not want to tell her I was planning to go with William. Nor did I want her to know I was not planning to be at work the rest of the week. I felt tremendously guilty.
“How wonderful that would be,” Bess said wistfully. “He should take you. He drags you about everywhere else. Today at the shop they were talking about the Chinese vases on display at the exhibit. Mrs. Whittaker says we’re likely to get a million orders for them. If you go, try to bring me a pamphlet. I’ll hardly know what to paint without having a look myself.”
“I will certainly try,” I told her, feeling wretched that I would see such beautiful things with ill-intent in my heart when a creature like my lovely sister could not afford the luxury of a ticket to visit the Crystal Palace.
“Oh, and look at this,” Bess said, getting up from her seat. She went over to the drying stand where her china cups, platters, and vases all sat. “What do you think?” she asked, handing a delicate teacup to me. Painted thereon were images of large tropical flowers.
“Beautiful,” I said, eyeing the ruby, brilliant pink, and sunset orange blossoms.
“A woman brought in a book with paintings of the flowers that grow in Bermuda. Can you believe that? Her husband owns a plantation there or some such thing. She wants a full set decorated with these flowers.”
I smiled. “Lovely work, Bess.”
“She asked Mrs. Whittaker for me specifically. Isn’t that a pip?”
“Your hands carry their sweetness,” Henry said.
“As do yours, love,” she replied, tousling his hair. “And what did you make at the millinery today, dear Henry?”
“A mess,” he replied, pulling off a hunk of bread which he handed to me.
At that, I laughed.
Bess smiled. “That is certain. Sometimes I think your flat is carpeted with ribbons, feathers, buttons, and silk. I don’t recall ever actually seeing the wood floor before. But tell me, did you make anything new?”
Henry smiled, but I noticed that his cracked lip pained him. “This morning, before tea, three sisters came to see me to ask for new hats. They wanted their monograms sewn onto the front.”
Bess laughed. “Indeed?”
“They’re triplets. They look alike, all three of them. Their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie. They wanted the monograms so their mother could tell them apart.”
Bess grinned. “What a terrible mother she must be if she cannot differentiate between her own daughters.”
“Well, they do all look the same.”
“But to their mother, if she knows them well, then they should not. Do you remember those twins, Devon and David?” Bess asked me. “The ones at the mill. The boys did look the same, but once you knew their nature, they were no more alike than Alice and me.”
“Perhaps their mother is not as bright as you,” I suggested.
Bess winked at me.
“I wrote up their order, but then it came to the issue of payment.”
“What was the matter?” Bess asked.
“They wanted to pay me in molasses.”
“Molasses?” Bess asked, looking puzzled. She broke into laughter which made Henry and me both smile. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Henry answered, “I was about to ask that very question when one of them got the idea then that instead of hats they should order clothing from the dollmaker for their pet dormouse. So, off they went.
“Molasses?” Bess asked again with a laugh.
“Indeed. What a mad world, isn’t it?” he said, looking up at me, his eyes full of apology.
I lifted my mug. “Indeed it is. Shall we have a toast then?”
“A toast?” Bess asked.
“To mad things?” I offered.
Bess nodded. “Indeed, to mad things!”
“To mad things!”
8
The Queen of Hearts
As was his custom, Henry lingered after dinner for a while. As his flat was right across from ours, there was no need to rush off. And, of course, he wanted to spend as much time with Bess as possible. Once it got very late, however, he bid us farewell.
I tried not to listen as Bess and Henry said their goodbyes at the door. The soft sound of their kisses met my ears. Sliding the Countess’s packages aside, I lay down on my cot and stared at the wall.
I hadn’t trusted my heart to anyone since William. I had loved, and it had cost me dearly. When I left the life, I’d gone into service with Lord Dodgson and moved me and Bess into the flat to escape. That was how Henry and Bess had met. I was glad we’d gone, that Bess was away from it all, and that fortune had blessed her with love in such a serendipitous fashion, but it had come at a price.
The Countess was right. Jabberwocky had loved Bess and me like we were his own daughters. We were supposed to inherit his big house. And I was supposed to be his successor, to run the business, with William at my side, after Jabberwocky was gone. The problem was that I had no interest in the job. It wasn’t as if Jabberwocky’s deeds were bloody. Consorting with airship pirates to make quick coin at gaming or selling opium wasn’t the same as the bloody business with which the Queen of Hearts meddled. But I didn’t want the life. And it was consorting with monsters like the Queen of Hearts that made me want to get away.
To say I’d never forget the first time I met her would be an understatement. Sometimes we encounter such scenes that they sear themselves into your memory. Such as it was the first time I encountered the Queen of Hearts. It had started as a simple job, but I should have known from Jabberwocky’s manner that it would be anything but.
“Go
to The Mushroom,” Jabberwocky had told me. He ran his hand over his hair, which had now paled from blond to white. It was combed in smooth rows. “Meet William. I have a package that needs to be delivered,” he’d said, but he hadn’t met my eye.
“Package?” I asked, fingering the small treasures on Jabberwocky’s desk: clay statues Bess had made for him, a framed miniature of his wife who’d died young in childbirth, and a poem I’d once written for him that he’d framed.
“A girl. Anna. She’s being transferred.”
“To whom?” I asked, surprised that I’d been brought in to handle a matter involving one of the brothel girls. Jabberwocky usually kept me as far as possible from the trade.
“To the Queen of Hearts,” Jabberwocky had said, passing me a slip of paper. “My carriage will take you to meet them. Go now.”
I stared at him, noting very plainly how he was looking at everything except me. His brow was furrowed, and he tapped his pen nervously. It was very clear that he didn’t want me to ask questions.
“Yes…yes, sir,” I said then headed toward the door.
“Alice?” he called just before I left.
“Yes?”
“The Queen of Hearts’s guards will check you for weapons. Take something they can’t find.”
“Yes, sir.”
With that, I headed upstairs and quickly changed. It was early morning. Bess was still asleep. No doubt she’d have a long day ahead of her looking after Madame Mock, Jabberwocky’s mother to whom Bess was a companion. Slipping on a pair of brown leather pants and a white shirt, I then pulled on a halter leather corset that was reinforced with tempered metal that could withstand a puncture. Over that, I pulled on a dark blue jacket with a bustle at the back. I left the White Queen behind, substituting her for a flat dagger that I called Button given its deceptive pommel. I slipped it into a discreet fold in the corset. I pulled on my leather boots. Inside were small lock pick pins and flat blades that were handy in a pinch. Lastly, I pulled my hair into a bun. I slipped the smallest of blades, disguised as a hairpin with a dragonfly top, into my mass of hair.
Jabberwocky’s expression told me this wasn’t a usual job. Rumors abounded about the Queen of Hearts. Some claimed she was in league with the devil. Others said she trafficked with assassins. There was no certainty about what her trade was, but I knew that even scoundrels like Jabberwocky generally steered clear of her. That was a good enough reason for me to stay away.
I headed outside and climbed into the carriage. The driver took me from Jabberwocky’s house to The Mushroom. The pub, of course, was a front for the crime syndicate Jabberwocky ran. William was waiting outside with Anna.
“Alice,” William said, opening the door and motioning for Anna to step inside.
I nodded to him then eyed the girl over. She was wearing a straw hat and a bright yellow dress. “Good morning,” she said happily.
I smiled at her but knew my expression betrayed my apprehension. Anna, who didn’t know me well, thought little of it. William, on the other hand, nodded to me. His expression was dark as well.
William and Anna got into the carriage, and we headed out.
“Do you know anything about my new employer?” Anna asked me.
“Not much,” I replied.
Anna nodded. “The city smells horrible,” she said, crinkling up her nose. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
“You’re new to London?”
She nodded. “I came here looking for…work.”
I nodded.
“At certain times of the year, the fog holds the smog from the factories and the waste dumped into the river,” William replied absently.
“Did you grow up here?” Anna asked William.
“Yes.”
“And your family? Are they still here as well?”
He shook his head. “Jabberwocky is my only family. I was orphaned as a boy.”
“Your father is very good to everyone,” she said then, turning to me.
“My father?”
“Mister Jabberwocky.”
William smirked.
“Thank you,” I said, not wanting to bother to explain to her that Jabberwocky was no more my father than William’s. Bess and I just had the fortune of being in the right place at the right time which had landed us in Jabberwocky’s circle.
The carriage took us just outside of London to the Queen of Hearts’s magnificent grounds at Darkfen Abbey. The driver spoke in low tones to the guards at the gate. Wordlessly, they inspected the carriage then sent us toward the house.
The road wound through a dense forest. The tall trees, heavy with new leaves, cast a canopy over us. The air chilled, the sun blocked. The grounds may have once been beautiful, but were now unkempt. Bramble and thorny vines choked the forest floor. There was the scent of mud and algae in the air.
The medieval abbey sat on a small rise. Its roof, like jagged fingers, reached into the sky. It was made of dark stone, and much of the original stained glass appeared to be intact. The ruby, sapphire, and golden colors of the glass twinkled in the sunlight. Angry gargoyles glared down at us like stony watchmen, sticking their forked tongues out at us in warning.
I heard Anna suck in a breath, but she said nothing.
When we reached the front door, a man wearing dark robes and a black silk turban decorated with sparkling gems waited for us. He had a long black beard and mustache. He reminded me of one of the spice peddlers that often flew in from Malta. He wore a massive curved blade at his side.
“Weapons? he asked the moment we stepped out of the carriage.
“We were instructed to leave them behind,” I replied.
The guard motioned to me anyway. Clearly, he didn’t take me at my word.
Lifting my arms, I let him pat me down. I saw William grit his teeth as the man’s arms moved quickly around my breasts.
He nodded then turned to William, who reluctantly assented.
The man raised an eyebrow at Anna, giving her a quick once-over, then turned back toward the front door, motioning for us to follow him.
Once inside the abbey, the door firmly closed behind us, and everything grew dim. The stained glass above the front door cast colored light on the floor. Aside from that, only a few lamps were lit and the windows were shuttered. It was dark, dank, and cool inside. The furnishings were sparse but rich. Exquisite paintings, tapestries, and statuaries filled the dark halls.
We passed a maid dusting. I hardly paid her any mind, save to notice how very pale she looked, when she turned and looked at me. Her eyes were not made of flesh and blood but clockworks and optics. Strange wires protruded from her temples—from inside her very head—and back inside her ears. The mechanisms inside those strange golden eyes seemed to focus. She regarded me, then with a sharp jolt, she turned back to her work. A mechanical click sounded from her as she moved. I tried not to stare but couldn’t look away. She was neither machine nor human.
“This way,” the man said, scowling at me.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to William.
He nodded. “I don’t like this.”
“Me either,” I said but pushed my shoulders back, steeling my nerve. It almost worked but then Anna slipped her soft hand into mine. It was icy cold. She looked at me, her blue eyes wide with fear.
I squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her, but the confidence I felt—and tried to pass to her—was a lie. Something was very wrong here.
The man led us down a dark hallway and then another. There was a strange smell in the air, a sort of mix of lemon and decay. It made my gorge rise. At last, we reached a heavy old door at the end of a dark hallway.
The guard knocked on the door.
“Yes? What do you want?” a harsh female voice demanded.
The man motioned for us to stay put then went inside.
I passed William a concerned glance.
“We do the job, then we leave, just like always,” he whispered so Anna could not hear.
I nodded.
“Fine, fine. Let’s see, then. Send them in,” the rough female voice shouted on the other side of the door.
The man returned and motioned for us to enter.
Even before the view unfolded before us, the smell of death wafted toward us. It was a strange scent. I could smell bodies, and feces, and decay, and also, quite in contrast, the scent of lemon and the heady smell of burnt sage.
The room bespoke itself. Mangled bodies hung on racks, in cages, and a heap of headless corpses lay in one pile. Every corpse seemed to be missing its head. But they hadn’t gone far. Some sat in jars filled with unidentifiable liquids. Others sat on a workbench, being fastened with the same clockwork devices I had seen on the maid. Piles of pulpy red sinew and gears and tools lay on the table in a confused jumble.
Anna suppressed a squeal and stepped back toward the door. The main in the turban took her by the arm.
And then my eyes fell on her.
The Queen of Hearts wore a long dark red dress covered with a black leather apron. She stood at a long table cleaning a series of instruments, each looking more deadly and pain-inducing than the last. She had very pale skin. It was so white that I had to look twice to determine it was not cream giving her such a white pallor. Her skin was smooth and without any blemish. She looked like she’d been carved out of porcelain. Her eyes were so dark brown they almost appeared black. She stood looking at us as she set the last instrument down and then, with a wet cloth, she wiped off the last of the blood that stained her arms from her elbows to her fingertips.
“I hope you aren’t the girl Jabberwocky sent. No offense, but you’re not my type, darling,” she said to me.
I opened my mouth to speak when William said, “This is Anna.” He motioned to her.
Anna had turned whiter than the Queen herself. She looked like she was about to faint. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the mangled bodies.
The Queen of Hearts set down her cloth and crossed the room to look at Anna, pulling off her apron as she did so. The Queen disgusted me and intrigued me all at once. I glanced around the room at the leavings of her…experiments. What the poor souls had suffered here was beyond my comprehension. Despite the revulsion I felt, I couldn’t help but realize that the Queen was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.