A/N: I'm ... I'm not exactly sure why I decided to write this. Guess I just need to pour my madness - ahem, extreme personality - into something. But Downton Abbey crossing with Alice in Wonderland? I found it an intriguing idea and possibly a good starter for some weird story - whoops, I meant creative writing.

And it's interesting to note that Jessica Brown Findlay (Sybil Crawley) was almost cast in Tim Burton's version of Alice in Wonderland. And that got me thinking 'how would that turn out?' So, Sybil is the heroine in the story, but plenty other people were turn up - in strange and bizarre forms.

So first a little introduction and then the good stuff. Be patient as I put chapters up, it could be weeks between installments.

"Must I really go?" sighed Sybil. "I doubt it will make a difference if I'm there."

"Mama will notice," said Mary, adjusting her necklace. "And you know how Papa is insistent about these things. They've been planning this party for months."

Sybil grumbled. She did not care for such things as garden parties or mingling or dresses. But that was her life, unfortunately for her. And Mary was right; Mama would smoke at the ears if she found Sybil wasn't where she was supposed to be. She turned to her sister and smoothed her dress. "Do I look alright?"

Mary looked her over with a critical eye. "Yes, you will, if you just ..." She reached out to fix a crease on Sybil's skirt and frowned.

"Where's your corset?" she asked.

Sybil glanced to the closet door. Mary was all but panicked.

"Sybil, are you wearing any stockings?" she asked exasperatedly.

"I'm against them," Sybil said simply. Mary looked as if her youngest sister had just said she was a boy - and proved it.

"You aren't properly dressed," she stressed, as if that would convince Sybil.

"So?" Sybil asked. "It's not like someone is going to ask me what underclothes I'm wearing. And anyway, men don't wear corsets and they look perfectly normal."

Mary had never looked redder in the face.

They were already late as it were, and anyhow, Sybil was content going down without much underwear on. Mary was always in a sour mood, but seeing her sister wear nothing but her dress was unbearable. She might as well have been naked. Suddenly, Sybil giggled a bit at the thought of walking into a soiree without a dress and just her underclothes. Mary frowned sternly.

"Oh, heavens, for once try to behave," she said. "You'll never attract a decent husband that way."

But Sybil could not care less about finding a decent husband. There weren't any, as far as she could see, and there were too many men to count out here. Too many people in general were outside, all mingling, drinking, eating, dancing. Sybil knew a good amount of these guests, all too stiff and stuffy for her liking. She knew the haughty widow Lady Dodgson who was surrounded by a group of ladies that including her mother. Over there was Lord Carroll and his wife, talking to her father, and Sir Anthony Strallen conversing with – was that Edith? Good lord, Edith just had to get mixed up with the wrong men.

"Quite a turnout," Sybil muttered. She scanned the crowd for a servant whom she could chat with, but they were all busy handling trays of food and champagne glasses, and Mr Carson did not like a distracted servant, especially at an event such as this.

"Ah, look who it is," Mary said to Sybil beside her. She was pointing to a man who wore a finely tailored suit and a sneer. To Sybil's horror and disgust, it was Larry Grey walking towards her.

"Lady Sybil," he said in a voice that would have been more appropriate in addressing a major general. Sybil responded in a similar tone, but saying the name made her tongue feel like thick chowder. She detested Larry Grey, the obnoxious son of Lord Merton and the little boy who followed her around and tore the wings off beetles. She hadn't seen him for about four glorious months. Her family was clearly trying to get her to be friendly with him, but she'd sooner marry a hairless cat than exchange pleasantries with him.

But one minute later, Sybil found herself dancing with Larry Grey. Dancing, of all the horrid things! She would rather push needles up into the soles of her shoes and walk around the whole of England. She wasn't terribly comfortable with the dance either and stumbled a little. Larry Grey noticed and looked down at her with disapproval. She didn't like that stare one bit, and tried to look at everything except him. But all the bright colors swirling around her made her head swim, and her dance partner emitted a smell like pepper.

"I apologize, good madam, Lady Sybil is distracted," she heard Larry Grey said. Sybil blushed; she must have stepped on some woman's foot. God, she was as good at dancing as a dog. Suddenly, she was seized with something absolutely hilarious, and she smiled oddly, trying not to let her smirk be noticed. She thought about her father's dog Pharaoh, a golden retriever who, in Sybil's opinion, would be a much better dance partner.

"Where is your head today?" Larry Grey was talking to her now. "You are acting quite queer now."

Good god, can't he speak normally? "I'm sorry. I was just wondering ... " Sybil wondered why in the world she was making a conversation with Larry Grey. "It's just that I was wondering what it would be like if we were all like animals, dancing on our hind legs."

However, Larry Grey was the opposite of amused. "It would be best you don't repeat that to anyone else. Think before you speak aloud, my father always said."

Sybil scowled. "I ...!"

"M'lady, I politely request that we reconvene under the trellis in precisely ten minutes." Larry Grey gave her a short nod just as the band concluded the waltz and strutted off.

Sybil hurried off of the dance patio, wringing her hands into a fist.

"Oh Sybil, first no corset or stockings, then you try to wrinkle your gloves." Mary walked up behind her, holding a glass of champagne.

"Do you think I care about that?" Sybil thought Mary was sounding a lot like Larry Grey. They could be brother and sister if Sybil didn't know any better.

"Well, Larry Grey won't like it much," Mary said.

Sybil was about to burst, but she could imaging Mary saying it might not be ladylike to do so. "What does it matter what he thinks?"

"It will matter when ..." Mary suddenly stopped, smiled, and sipped her champagne nonchalantly.

"What?" Sybil saw the glint in Mary's eye that always told her she was thinking more than she was saying. "You have to tell me, why does it matter?"

Mary laughed. "Sybil, I thought you would have realized by now what this is all for. This is your engagement party."

Sybil nearly vomited. "No, oh God, no, not to him!"

Mary was trying not to laugh to hard. "Did you really not see? How could you not get it? It's all for you. This party that's been planned for at least two years."

She stepped closer to the distraught Sybil. "You know how rich Larry Grey is, how powerful his father is. Merton Manor will be a wonderful home. You need not act as if this is the end of the world."

For Sybil, it was worse than if the flowers had gone up in flames just now. Marry Larry Grey? Live in that bleak manor with him? It must be a joke these people wanted to torment her with.

"Does everybody know?" she asked. Mary laughed again. "Of course. We've all gone through so much to keep it a secret until today. The Lutwidge girls were beside themselves with jealousy when they heard of your betrothal."

She whispered to Mary, "But Larry Grey is a sick-minded boy and I will never accept his proposal. I'd sooner take up chimney sweeping than marry him!" She had to keep from imagining their wedding night, or she might toss up her breakfast.

Mary was frowning. "I'm afraid you don't have time to talk to Carson about a position. And like it or not you are already betrothed. It's just a little show they want everybody to see." She paused. "You've got maybe seven minutes before you have to meet under the rose trellis."

Sybil looked over at the trellis covered in white roses. In seven minutes Larry Grey would be taking her hand in his and asking him to marry him for etiquette's sake, to put on a show that everyone here wanted to see. "I don't believe it."

"I don't either," Mary said, looking over at the large trellis. "Why are the roses white? I know Mama asked for red."

Sybil rolled her eyes. "You could paint them red if it's so important to you," she rebuffed.

Mary glared at Sybil through the corner of her eye. "You do realize he hates it when you say what you think. I can't stand it myself. You'll find it will be easier to get along with him if you say what he want to hear, and say nothing unless he asks you. In fact ..."

Sybil turned away, hearing but not listening to Mary's lecture. There was a faint ticking noise in her other ear, and she rubbed it, to no avail. It was irritating her, more irritating than hearing Mary's blather.

And then she saw it, something that was so queer she wondered what was in the champagne. Right beside the rose trellis was a snow-white rabbit with blue eyes, a cream colored waistcoat and jacket, and a pocket watch.

Sybil blinked several times, but not only was the white rabbit there, it was moving! Yes, looking at the pocket watch like a person, tapping on it a few times, and looking about at the party.

Then it looked at her, pointed to the pocket watch, and hopped off.

Sybil was going mad. It must be the heat, she thought, because there was no way that rabbits wore clothing and pocket watches. But that annoying ticking noise in her ear had stopped.

"Sybil? What are you looking at?" Mary asked, her voice suddenly very loud.

"I thought I just saw ... did you see a rabbit over there? Just now?"

"No." Mary craned her neck to see if it was still there, but it had since disappeared into the bushes and Sybil could no longer see it.

"Oh." Sybil had thought about how nice it would be to see the rabbit up close. To tell the truth, she had felt more excitement seeing the rabbit than attending the party. But it was just her mind playing tricks with her.

She wished it was still her imagination when she and Larry Grey stood underneath the rose trellis together, the entire party, guests and staff, staring at the couple. Her family, the servants, her cousin Matthew and his mother, Larry Grey's abominable relations, and perhaps the whole of Yorkshire were watching the supposedly romantic scene. Yet when Larry Grey bent to one knee and took her hands in his, Sybil felt this was more of a horror story than a romantic fairy-tale.

"Lady Sybil Crawley, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Sybil had spent the last few minutes wondering about the rabbit with the pocket watch, so she had no idea how to react. Her mind was swimming with worry. She knew the silence was supposed to be filled by her acceptance, but she could not help but hope that she'd think of some way to save herself.

I have to say yes - everyone expects me to.

And they're all right - Larry Grey is wealthy with a big house. I'll be comfortable and rich too.

But will I really be happy?

If being happy meant spending the rest of her life with Larry Grey, then she'd give that up.

The congregation was watching her with anticipation. Mary and Edith were egging her on with their eyes, her mother and father were waiting with bated breath, Larry Grey's parents looked on the verge of screaming "just say yes!" Sybils scanned the crowd, looking any possible escape route.

For a moment she felt her heart stop. She thought she was seeing the rabbit again.

She really was loosing her head. But then, she heard the annoying ticking again.

"Lady Sybil!" Larry Grey hissed quietly. He was looking up at her, patience wearing thin. He most definitely wouldn't like what she had to say next.

"This is all happening so quickly," Sybil said softly. Her head was spinning, and she wondered if she might faint.

Tick, tick, tick, tick ...

"Excuse me, but I think I ... I need a moment."

She ran.

She ran far away from the party, from the rose trellis, through the gardens, past hundreds of white roses, following the ticking noise. It was getting very loud, practically ticking in her ear, but where was the rabbit?

There! It was running like it was being chased by a hound. Sybil saw it bound through the trees. It was still wearing the cream colored waistcoat and jacket. Why in the world was a rabbit wearing clothes? she wondered, but before she could think of a logical answer, she glimpsed as it rounded a large tree and disappeared.

She sighed, exhausted from her flight. She felt cool in the grove, away from the hot stare of the gathering. But she was deeply disappointed at not getting a better look at the funny rabbit. She went around the tree, hoping in vain that it might be hiding. It was no longer to be seen anywhere, though. It had vanished into thin air.

Well, at least she was far away from —

Her ankle turned on a crumbling patch of dirt, and her elbow scrapped the rough bark of the tree as she slipped down beneath the roots.

She was falling!

Sybil screamed as air rushed past her, tangling her hair and rustling her skirts. She was falling so fast and so far down, and above her she saw the blue sky become surrounded by the hole which she had just fallen through. But there light in this odd tunnel, in the walls around her, like lantern bugs.

As she fell she saw things rush past her. Things like tables, dolls, pictures, chairs, a piano, everything, all floating about her, rushing past her so fast that when she knocked her limbs against these objects it stung terribly. She tried to grab onto something, but her hands slipped with her gloves still on. It was like someone had taken the contents of her house and dumped them down the hole along with her. She fell past the antiques and they were all a blur as she felt herself falling faster.

What was happening to her?

She got a bad fright when she finally hit ground. It was hard like rock but smooth like polished marble. Her face felt bruised and so did the rest of her body. She lay on the floor, wondering what was going on?

Because seeing a rabbit in a waistcoat and falling down a rabbit hole past furniture and falling on a checkered floor most certainly merited insanity. It could not happen in reality.

Could it?

A/N2: Reviews, anyone? I'm not confident about this idea (or anything, for that matter), so a little message will hopefully boost my faith.