Darkly Dreaming
Prologue: Six Impossible Things
Disclaimer: I don't own Alice in Wonderland.
Author's Note: Welcome readers, before you get started doing what you do best I have a couple of things to say.
1. I've got a few chapters pre-written so, time permitting, updates for these chapters should be fairly quick. Unfortunately I am a university student and I have a part-time job so after my pre-written chapters are used up it could be a bit of a wait for updates. Sorry, but that's life for you.
2. Each chapter will be told from a general POV but focus on a different set of characters, for example, Chapter One could be about how the March Hare makes soup and Chapter Two could be about how much Mirana enjoys the soup he makes. Hopefully by noting this it will avoid confusion.
3. Last but not least I thrive on reviews. It keeps my focus with a particular story and encourages creative flow. I am always happy to hear about suggestions for how the story could continue or pairings you might like to see and I take them all into consideration. I appreciate any constructive critiscim or advice about plot structure, characters, spelling, and grammar, seeing as I don't have an official beta and my unofficial one is occasionally laclustre in her corrections. Flames...I won't say that I enjoy flames, but I recognize that some people need to vent, and they do spur me to write more...so, go ahead and flame I suppose, if you really think it's necessary please restrict yourself to the one scathing review and then kindly stop reading since the story clearly upsets you.
WARNING: May contain, violence, character death, torture, sensual and sexual situations, and other mature subject matter. Note the rating people, if you're sensitive or young this is not the story for you especially as I get into later chapters!
It was a beautiful winter's day and Alice was wrapped up in socks and blankets enjoying her tea, a delightful earl grey that chased the last of the early morning chill from her body, and setting her mind to the daily ritual of believing her six impossible things before getting started on her breakfast.
"One, I've managed to become a successful partner in my father's company and have seen his dreams and my own fulfilled at last, despite the protestations of my fellows, my clients, and the Ton as a whole and despite the fact they will never give me my due credit,"
She said aloud as she nestled herself comfortably in her window nook and delighted in the patterns she could make out in the thick frosting of her window.
The purchase of this cottage had been Lord Ascot's idea, and she thanked the stars she had agreed, because, after discovering that most of the businessmen in the Orient and other wilds of the world had no interest in listening to a woman they believed should be cooking, cleaning, and having babies, she had spent a good portion of her time in London manipulating affairs from the home office and letting Lord Ascot's younger son Jamie, who was only a year or so younger than her, take her place in the field.
That was not to say that she didn't go with him on occasion as indeed nothing could have stopped her from exploring the world, but she found herself at home rather more than she was comfortable with considering her mother and sister both insisted she marry before she became a mad spinster like her poor Aunt Imogene. She found herself undyingly grateful to have a little place all her own where she was free to do as she pleased and could escape the strictures of society.
"Two, I am twenty-two and have managed to thus far elude my mother's high-handed attempts at matchmaking," she said with a wry toast to Lady Luck.
They were indeed high-handed. Helen Kingsleigh had even gone so far as to try and arrange her marriage while Alice was trekking about Africa. Alice had of course put a stop to it as soon as she had arrived home. Helen was terrified that Alice would end up like Imogene a burden to the family and a source of never-ending gossip and ridicule.
While Alice thought it likely that she would always be a source of gossip she certainly wasn't anywhere near to becoming like her maiden aunt and she could hardly be a burden when her fortune rivalled that of many a wealthy Lord.
"Three, this time tomorrow I will be back in Underland,"
Alice grinned gleefully at the thought. Her business was complete, her affairs were in order and her ideas were written down and locked away where only the people who mattered could find them if they even needed them at all. Her father's dream had been realized and Alice had found all the answers she would find above ground.
It was time.
She was finally going back to Underland. Three years was really much too long to be away but she hadn't thought it would take quite this long to set everything in order. She missed her friends, and she missed the wildness of the place. She missed being around people who were quite as mad as she was.
She was interrupted from her musings and wistful memories of Underland by a sudden pounding at her door. Setting down her little blue tea cup she glanced at her clock, it was a little past seven, hardly the proper time for callers even if they were calling on her. The pounding came again and Alice fancied it rather desperate.
"I'm coming!" she called rousing herself from the contemplation of her mysterious caller.
After all if she wanted to find out who it was and why she needed to answer the door, anything less was purely speculation. So she padded to the door and opened it wide shivering as the chilly winter wind swept over her swirling her long golden mane, nightdress, wrapper and blanket around her.
The man at the door was tall and well muscled with a slowly paling tan and unfashionably long red hair pulled back into a queue. He was sweating and shivering with cold at the same time, his coat was mud stained in places and he had forgone both a shave and a cravat.
"Jamie! What are you doing here at this hour? Come in, come in, you're soaked and freezing,"
"My horse..."
"I'll tend to Tempest," Alice said slipping into the warm boots she's gotten from the Indians on her venture to the Americas.
"Alice..." Jamie protested.
Alice used her command voice, she had learned it from Mirana, she had had a pretty good one before Mirana had given her a bit of coaching but now most people seldom dared disagree or disobey when she used the voice.
"Go warm up by the fire and help yourself to some tea, I will tend to Tempest," she said firmly.
Before he could say anything more on the matter Alice had cinched her wrapper more tightly and hurried out into the front yard where the horse in question, a large dapple grey mare of mercurial temperament, was loosely tied to her hitching post. She was breathing hard and shivering lightly as the sweat dried on her flanks.
Alice was shocked. Jamie loved Tempest better than he loved his own mother, not that that was difficult considering the Lady Ascot's temperament, but he had raised her since she was a foal, he had been there for her birth, he would not have pushed her this way for anything less than a matter of the greatest importance.
"Come on Tempest let's get you settled," said Alice worrying her lower lip as she led the mare into the stable for a good rub down and a bit of hot mash.
When she returned to the cottage she found the fire stoked and Jamie pacing her kitchen his flame coloured hair hanging damply around his shoulders and his blue eyes flashing. He looked nothing so much like one of those caged tigers they had happened upon in India.
"Alice..." he said seriously.
"What is wrong, Jamie, don't you dare spare me!" she growled tossing her damp wrapper over her chair.
"Perhaps, you might want to sit down," he suggested with uncharacteristic gentleness.
"James William Christopher Ascot!" she snapped.
A hundred different horrible things flashed through her mind, and she couldn't bear not knowing for sure what was wrong and more importantly what she could do to fix it.
"Alice, it's your sister, Margaret," Jamie said softly ignoring her sharpness and taking both her hands into his own work roughened ones.
"Lowell?" Alice queried distressed golden eyes wide.
"No," Jamie laughed humourlessly, "If only it were that,"
"What is it Jamie? What has happened to Margaret?"
He drew in a deep breath.
"She and Manchester were going to a party, Lady Wiltshire's rout, their carriage took a corner badly and in the cold a weak strap snapped and the carriage broke from the team and rolled down a hill. Their necks were broken, and they weren't found until the next morning. She is dead, Alice," he told her softly.
Alice stared into his dark eyes for a long moment her hands falling from his grasp as her arms suddenly became too heavy to hold up.
Four, I'll never see my beloved sister again.
A horrible keening sound filled her ears and her eyes stung with tears, it took her a long moment to realize that Jamie had wrapped her in his arms protectively and that she was the one making the awful noise.
"Margaret!" she screamed her nails digging into his biceps.
"Alice! Alice! You must listen to me!" Jamie called shaking her gently until her watery eyes focussed on his serious face, "Margaret and Lowell's will has been read, they have named you the guardian of their children,"
"Guardian...the little ones..." Alice breathed.
"Yes, you need to be strong for them,"
Five, I can raise my sister's children.
"Where...where are they?" she demanded.
"Your mother was looking after them, they are at the house in London, I came as soon as I heard, the Funeral is set for three days hence,"
Six, I can watch golden lively Margaret be lowered into the ground.
"I need to pack,"
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the lacy edge of her sleeve.
Nothing is ever accomplished with tears.
She reminded herself. Instead she scooped up the teapot and with an incoherent cry she hurled it at the wall sending shards of china and splashes of hot tea flying. Jamie flinched back.
"I'm sorry Jamie, but I must go to my family," she said blankly.
"I will saddle your horses," Jamie said understandingly.
Alice nodded and swept from the room. In the safety of her bedchamber Alice leaned her head against another frosty window and allowed the selfish thought that wormed its way into her mind the merest whisper of a voice.
"You can never go back,"
AN: Please Review!