When her head stopped throbbing, Sybil stood up, not bothering to first check for any broken bones. She was surprised she had none; she felt like she had fallen for miles, surely she should have broken all four limbs and her skull. But except for feeling somewhat dizzy and incredibly confused, Sybil was fine.
She looked upwards. She couldn't see the clear blue sky at all. The only light in the hole was the soft glowing candles which now looked liked fireflies in the distance.
"Well, bully for this," Sybil said out loud, although there was no one around to listen. "I've just be proposed to by Larry Grey, and I've fallen down a hole to ..." She drifted off, wondering where the dickens she was.
She looked around. She was standing at the end of a hall, one single long hall. The floor was like a chessboard, which Sybil first noticed when she had fallen. There was nothing else in the hall; not a door, not even a window. All Sybil was go down the hall and hope that there was something there.
So Sybil walked, slowly at first, listening for anything sign of life. She remembered the rabbit, and she was certain it had come down the same hole.
"Fancy a rabbit that likes to put books and chairs in his hole," Sybil said, again to no one in particular.
It was surprising for Sybil to realize that she wasn't really scared. Even though she was perhaps miles away from her family with no way of getting back to them in sight, she was just merely curious as to how she could be in this strange place. She started to think that she had fallen asleep in the forest and this was all just a dream. Yes, it can only be a dream ...
But what about the sound of the watch ticking, which she was certain she was hearing even now?
Sybil began to run faster as she caught a glimpse of a white tail.
"Wait!" she called. "Wait!"
She could see the whole rabbit now. Yes, it was still wearing the waistcoat. It was even listening to the ticking of the watch. But as soon as it saw Sybil approach it, it dove through a small doorway.
Sybil bent down to the small doorway. She could only just fit through it, but she could no longer see the rabbit. She couldn't even make out how long the tunnel went for.
She started to crawl into the hole. It was slow going from the start. Sybil's heavy skirts kept her from moving a few inches at a time, and pretty soon her back began to ache.
"What a day this is turning out to be!" she grumbled in the darkness. "This is just as bad as standing under that stupid trellis with that thick headed Larry Grey."
Her stomach growled loudly. "Wonderful, now I'm hungry."
"Stop dawdling and crawl faster!"
Sybil stopped and listened. She couldn't see anyone, still couldn't see the end of the tunnel. Perhaps it was the rabbit?
She shook her and kept on crawling. "Don't be silly, Sybil," she said to herself. "Even rabbits who wear waistcoats can't talk."
Even as she grunted and inched her way forward she realized that after everything she had seen so far there should be no reason rabbits couldn't talk.
"Will you hurry up? We're running very late, you know."
"Shut it!" Sybil shouted as she continued forward. She didn't care who or what was pushing her buttons, but it sounded a lot like Mary, and that was the last thing she needed.
It obviously wasn't Mary talking, no, it was a man's voice. Sybil envisioned a small man, not excelling at anything except working at a dingy office or waiting on some lord. She wondered who was waiting for her at the end of the tunnel.
"Where have you been? What are you doing?"
She realized, even though the tunnel ended five feet ago, that she was still on her hands and knees. And standing outside the exit was the white rabbit, tapping its watch.
"Where have you been?" It said again. Sybil frowned; the rabbit sounded very familiar.
"I - I," Sybil stammered.
"No time for that, we are rather late," the rabbit said, and hopped off down another long hall.
Sybil groaned; her back was aching terribly, and it felt stiff. Wearing the corset was certainly no help. But she ignored the soreness in her back and the empty feeling in her stomach and followed the rabbit, who every now and then stopped to tap on his watch.
"Wait – what's going on? What are you late for?" Sybil called out.
"We are both very late, and if you don't hurry, oh, I'll be in such trouble," the rabbit said, whimpering slightly.
"Late? Late for what?" Sybil grumbled. If it was another stupid party, she was going home, no matter what she had to do.
"No time for that!" the rabbit stopped, and sniffed. "Here we are."
They had come to a circular room, still with the checkered floor, but now there was a door. A door that, thankfully, Sybil would be able to walk right through. The brass handle was low to the ground, the perfect height for the rabbit. It pulled a tiny key, the size of maybe half a finger, out of its pocket and turned it in the lock.
"Oh dear, I hope we have enough time," the rabbit muttered as it pulled the door open.
For a rabbit, he sure is obsessed with time, Sybil thought.
When the door swung open, Sybil's mouth dropped open. For just outside the hall was a garden, spread out farther than the eye could see. It wasn't like the boring gardens at her home at all. Her eyes bulged at all the color, at all the strangeness.
She did not notice that behind her, not a trace of the long hall remained. Only a door stood in the middle of a hill.
She went down the hill that the door had opened up to, and as she moved further into the garden her amazement grew. It was like a jungle, she thought. All of the flowers were larger, the trees taller, even the gigantic colorful mushrooms grew everywhere. There was so much red and green and blue and yellow and every colour Sybil knew the name of, plus strange swirls and patterns. The flowers were garish shades of pink and yellow and - oh my, Sybil thought. The flowers had faces. And it wasn't like they were carved or cut into the flowers. They were in fact moving, looking at her, and giving her a rather rude glare.
"Look at her, quite a small thing, isn't she?"
"I was expecting something prettier."
"Oh hush, she probably isn't the real Sybil anyway."
"But how many Sybils can there be to choose from?"
The conversing flowers sounded an awful lot like two of the maids at Downton. Sybil recognized the high nasally sound of some blonde maid and the funny cockney accent of whats-her-name. She scoffed at their talk.
"What do they mean the real Sybil? Talking flowers talking nonsense."
The garden was teeming with life and sounds. Flying above her was a tiny dragonfly (literally a dragon-fly, like a dragon with insect wings) and a larger horsefly (which looked like a rocking horse). The sky was a dark blue-grey, maybe threatening rain. It was dark and misty, but the lurid colours were bright like lightbulbs. The trees were rustling oddly shaped leaves, and even the toadstools were making odd ribbit sounds. It smelled like any other garden, but much stronger, and Sybil sneezed.
"Where are we going?" she asked as the rabbit turned a sharp corner.
"Hurry up now," it said once more, aggravating Sybil.
"Well, I never!" she huffed. "This is the most annoying rabbit I have ever met."
"Moseley? Where were you? We thought you got lost," said something up ahead.
"Me, lost? I - I don't know what you mean," the rabbit stuttered, looking around.
Moseley? Sybil squinted at the rabbit. Not like Mr Moseley, Matthew Crawley's butler? Her jaw dropped as she figured out that the rabbit had the same voice as the other Moseley, the human one.
"This is getting curiouser and curiouser," Sybil said aloud.
She went around a fruit tree that was sprouting oddly shaped apples and found herself standing in front of the oddest bunch of creatures, surrounded by a dozen flower-faces.
"Are you sure this is the right Sybil Crawley?" inquired a golden dog with messy fur.
"Well, I for one am not convinced," said the hound with long red fur standing next to the first dog.
"I've been up there for weeks trailing Sybil Crawley, and this is the gratitude I receive? I was almost eaten by her hunting hounds. Dreadful, baying dogs worse than our own. And I have this horrible rash from a rue hedge I ran through," complained Moseley the white rabbit. Sybil thought this was the weirdest thing that she had ever heard the nervous butler say.
"Oh hush, Moseley, no one wants to hear your rabble," interjected a sapphire hued rose. Moseley stamped impatiently on his rabbit feet and stood off to the side of the path.
"We must consult with Mr. Carson on the matter," said a large caracal that stood nearly up to Sybil's neck.
Sybil's head was spinning. There was a Carson in this world too? Who else from her household was she going to encounter in this bizarre place?
A dormouse stood behind the caracal, trembling. "I-I don't think we should bother Mr. Carson, especially if she isn't the real Sybil."
"Oh, hush Daisy," the large caracal shushed. "He'll be the judge of this matter."
"If it is the real Sybil then it is, and if it isn't then it isn't," the golden dog interjected.
"I'm not an 'it!'" shouted Sybil. They were all talking as if she wasn't standing right in front of them. The lot of them were talking just like her parents and her grandmother whenever they thought she wasn't listening.
"Who are you? Where's Carson?" she demanded. She wanted answers before she woke up from this perplexing dream.
The two dogs walked behind her and nudged her forward with their noses. The red dog sneezed. "Ugh. Mr Carson won't be pleased to be inter—"
Suddenly, Sybil gasped loudly as she recognized the voice of the red dog. "Gwen! Oh my gosh, Gwen, what's going on? Why are you a dog?"
The red dog looked at her queerly. "Well, I don't know why I'm a dog. I've always been a dog. Perhaps that's the way they'll always be."
Sybil looked down at the Gwen-dog as they followed the caracal. It sounded just like Gwen and talked in the same way, in the same defeatist manner that the housemaid spoke in when discussing her ambitions of being a secretary. Sybil sighed; she missed the real Gwen already.
"Come along now," the caracal prodded.
They're all as pushy as Moseley was in the hallway, thought Sybil.
The part journeyed farther into the jungle-like garden, the path becoming narrower and narrower. There weren't any more bright flowers, Sybil noted. It was getting darker in the sky, the hedges casting long shadows.
"We need to hurry," the caracal hissed. "It won't be safe in this garden soon."
Gwen, Moseley, and the yellow dog all shivered. Sybil looked at them in confusion.
"Wha-why? What's out there?"
"Nothing good, that's for certain," the yellow dog said.
Sybil opened her mouth to ask what exactly, but she was being herded into a small clearing. There were silver trinkets everywhere on the ground; spoons, platters, all shining in pristine condition. Around a tree large stump sat several dozen wine bottles, some of them open. They were labeled with peculiar names. Sybil could read one called Tumkinport.
"Mr. Carson?" the caracal said. "What are you doing?"
Over the top of the tree stump crawled the most brusque-looking caterpillar Sybil at ever seen. It was probably only three inches long, but it was very round and somewhat disagreeable to look at. It was a bright blue hue, and in one of its legs it held a pen.
"Mrs Hughes, I was certain we had six dozen left of the Felpilsharow from West Lagutrop, but I'm beggared if I can find more than four," the caterpillar spoke.
"Well, look again before you jump to any conclusions," the caracal - Mrs Hughes, as the caterpillar had called her - said, putting her paws on the tree stump where the caterpillar was making notes. "But never mind that now."
The caterpillar made one final scratch in the tree stump and peered at the group before him. Sybil felt very intimidated, which in itself was very off-putting since a tiny caterpillar shouldn't be very scary at all. But since it had Mr. Carson's voice it was no wonder everyone but Mrs Hughes looked a little low on confidence.
"Who are you?" Carson the caterpillar asked.
"I-I'm Sybil Crawley," Sybil stammered.
The caterpillar sniffed. "Come closer."
Hesitantly, Sybil stepped closer to the tree stump. It was almost as tall as her eyes, and Carson the caterpillar raised himself so they were looking each other square in the eye. Sybil glanced down quickly to see the wood of the tree carved like a record, the names of the drinks scratched into the surface. Carson looked at her, unimpressed.
"And you're sure she's the right Lady Sybil Crawley, Mr Moseley?" he said.
Moseley the white rabbit shifted uncertainly. "Well, yes. She wasn't hard to fi – I mean, she was there and – oh, dear ..."
Carson sighed. "Mr Moseley, are you suggesting something?"
"No! No! I mean, I beg your pardon Mr Carson," Moseley said hurriedly.
Carson sighed again. "She's not hardly Sybil. She's isn't Sybil, but she will be yet. For now, she's not hardly Sybil."
Sybil stared. "What? What do you mean. I am Sybil. I am Sybil right now!"
"You're not hardly Sybil, that I am sure of." Carson looked at the notes in the tree and made a quick line through one of the names.
Sybil could not be more confused. "What does that mean 'not hardly Sybil?'"
"Mrs Hughes, I don't entirely agree with this plan of action, however if this is what must be done, this is what must be done. Daisy?"
A little squeak came from a small patch of grass. Sybil noticed the timid dormouse from before emerge.
"Yes, Mr Carson?" it whimpered.
"Try to keep up with the rest of us," Mr Carson said shortly.
The dormouse named Daisy heaved a sigh of relief and sat down near a silver candlestick.
"Now Gwen, William, take the girl to the safe point. She's not hardly Sybil Crawley, but we can't wait around to have her pop up. You'll have to hurry before the queen's guards figure out she's here."
The yellow dog, William, shuddered. "But Mr Carson, we won't even make it to the Stangrove junction by then."
"Then I suggest you get a head start," Mr Carson said crossly.
The two dogs began nudging Sybil's legs again, urging her to start walking. "Wait!" she cried. "Where are we going? Who's the queen?"
No one said anything.
"Won't you answer me?" Sybil screeched.
"There's no time!" William and Gwen bayed.
"We'll explain everything later, once we get to Junderdee lane," William told her. "Right now, we need to get out of here!"
Sybil had no chance to ask another of the thousand or so questions that were spinning in her mind. The dogs began to trot faster, and Sybil struggled to keep up in the dress she was wearing. She was tired and hungry and confused, and she just wanted to lie down and sleep.
They seemed to be walking forever, but the jungle-garden showed no signs of ending. It was a long time before William put his nose to the ground and sniffed.
"Aren't we ever going to make it out of here?" Sybil whined. Her feet were stinging. She kicked her shoes off, abandoning them under a purple toadstool.
"We need to go!" William exclaimed. "The queen's guards are out!"
"What?" both Gwen and Sybil cried out.
Far away, Sybil could hear angry shouts and perhaps a sword or two being drawn.
"They know you're here," Gwen said to Sybil. "William, that nerdrink you buried must be somewhere around here."
"I dunno –"
"Then hurry up and find it! Or the Red Queen will have us on toast!"
Immediately, William began smelling a trail on the ground. Twenty feet away he stopped and dug ferociously into the ground. "Here it is! Nerdrink!"
The yellow dog trotted back to Sybil and Gwen. In its mouth was a small green bottle labeled 'Drink Me.'
"Hurry up!" Gwen said. One of her ears perked up. "They'll be on our trail any minute. If they go to Mr Carson he'll tell them where we've gone."
"Huh?" Sybil said, uncapping the small bottle. "I thought Mr Carson was on our side."
"He is, but he adores the Red Queen. He knew her when she was young. Can't ignore anything she says or orders," William said simply.
Who is this Red Queen? Sybil shrugged and sniffed the green liquid. It had a funny smell to it.
"Come on!" Gwen goaded. "They're catching up!"
In one quick swallow, Sybil downed the nerdrink. It had a bizarre taste, like raspberry meringue, victoria sandwich, apples, tea, and what was probably roast chicken. It didn't taste bad, but it made her feel funny.
All of a sudden, she felt herself physically shrinking. The hand holding the nerdrink bottle shrank, her feet shrank, her head grew smaller, while all around her the two dogs and all of the plants in the garden grew larger.
"What's happening?" Sybil gasped. She didn't see how growing smaller was going to help her now. She felt utterly ridiculous as she diminished to about two feet tall. Her dress collapsed around her.
"Oh God, I'm naked," she cried. But as William took the dress in his mouth and began to bury it, Sybil found her undergarments had miraculously fabricated themselves into a suitable garment. At least, it wasn't showing anything that should be showing. Still, she was dressed only in her underwear, two feet tall, and she was being placed on Gwen's back.
"William, you hold the lot off! I'll get her to Junderdee lane," Gwen said. William whimpered a bit as he finished covering up the old dress.
"Hold on tight," Gwen told Sybil. Sybil grasped two handfuls of the red fur as Gwen bounded off, through the endless garden.
It wasn't hard to ride a dog, Sybil found. It was just like riding a horse, only without a saddle or stirrups, which was a bit difficult. Plus, she was only two feet tall, which was, in Sybil's opinion, a dreadful height to be at her age, but quite right a size to ride a dog. Her hair streamed out behind her as Gwen ran around huge toadstools and trees, leaping over curiously carved stones. It began to grow dark, but Sybil had to hope that Gwen knew where she was going.
"Where's Junderdee lane?" Sybil asked.
"Just beyond the garden," Gwen answered, never losing speed. "The queen's guards won't look there, they'll spend too much time searching in the garden. But once we get there you're on your own."
Sybil cringed. She was to be left all alone in this strange world? "Must I be left alone here? I've only just got here, and besides, I'm two feet tall! How am I supposed to get anywhere being that short?"
Gwen panted. "Just keep on the path and you'll be fine. If the Red Queen figures out I brought you here she'll decorate her coat with my fur," she shuddered.
"Where am I supposed to go?" Sybil asked. She felt her desperation growing as the plants began to grow more sparsely.
"You need to get to the White King's castle at Manigen Crims, across the Hytesbin river. William and I'll try to get back to you in the morning."
Five minutes later, they left the garden and Gwen stopped in front of a rough dirt path. She lay down to let Sybil slid off of her. Sybil landed in the grass, feeling a little dizzy from the ride. It had been fun, but the thrill of riding a dog bigger than her had been spoilt by the announcement that she was to be left all alone.
"I need to go," Gwen said. "Stay on the path and just keep walking that way. Stop when you get to the Hytesbin river."
"Thanks," Sybil said. "But can't you tell me what's going on? Why does the Red Queen want me?"
"I'm really not the dog to tell you that," Gwen admitted. "I don't really know the details. I'm just a dog. I do what Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes tell me."
Sybil sighed. Really, this dog resembled the human Gwen in so many ways. If Sybil closed her eyes she could imagine her friend standing next to her. It made her heart ache to think of home and her friends, all so far away. Here she was in a strange land, being told to do things and she had no understanding of why. She felt herself beginning to cry, but she pushed away the tears.
"It's gonna be alright," Gwen said. "We're all trying to keep you safe. You're our only hope, if you are the real Sybil."
"Huh?" Sybil started alive when she heard those words, but Gwen darted back into the garden. She was far away before Sybil could even open her mouth.
She felt her heart sink in her chest. Here she was, all alone again. Now she had to walk even more, to a place she'd never even heard of before. She was exhausted, but her stomach wasn't growling anymore. It must have been that nerdrink, Sybil thought, perhaps that's why I'm not so hungry right now. Still, she would have walked miles to have another bite of Mrs Patmore's food. The roast chicken and raspberry merengue she had tasted made her think of home. The rest of her family would be finishing up a delicious dinner right about now, or maybe they were out searching for her. Not that any one of them would think to look down the rabbit hole.
Sybil realized she missed them now, Mama and Papa, even Mary and Edith. Yes, she hated parties and corsets and surprise proposals, but it was indefinitely better than being left on a dirt path. She missed the real Gwen and hoped the maid wouldn't think that she had abandoned her. What would the real Gwen do if she didn't come back? What if there was another opportunity for her, one that would most certainly get Gwen a better job if she presented herself to the interview. Sybil was the only one who was helping Gwen achieve her dream, and she would not give up, even when Gwen saw the gloomier side of things.
I shouldn't give up now, not when she needs me, Sybil told herself. The real Gwen and the Gwen here.
"You're our only hope, if you are the real Sybil." Those were the last words dog-Gwen said to her before hurrying away. How am I anyone's hope, though?
All Sybil could do now was wonder and walk, so she trudged on, the path stretching far out in front of her.
- For the readers, here is a list of the characters so far:
Moseley - white rabbit; Mr Carson - caterpillar; Daisy - dormouse; various housemaids - talking flowers; William - yellow dog; Gwen - red dog; Mrs Hughes - caracal.
(Any guesses to who the Red Queen and White King are?)
AN: I tried to match the characters in Downton Abbey and Alice in Wonderland as best as I could, but I also figured I needed to make up some aliases. I decided William and Gwen should both be dogs as they are workers and would be similar to Bayard in Tim Burton's version. Mrs Hughes is a caracal, which is a lynx-like cat, and I just thought it was fitting for her person. As for the others, I'm sure you can guess.
And as for the crazy names, they're either random or foreign words put together. I figure Lewis Carroll did the same thing.