Chapter 4
Once again I have to wait for the shock to wear off. Just how bad could this Wonderland be? And who is this Alice, if not for the one Lewis Carroll write of? And yet again I find myself wondering just why I am here. Frustrated my thoughts once again turn to Ciel, as seems to happen often. However much I hate to admit it my love for him is a weakness. As mother told me during our lessons I need to make my weaknesses into a weapon. I can use my love to protect me, even when he is not with me Ciel seems to always protect me.
I stop my pacing in the middle of the floor. The light from my window has been blotted out; a startled gasp escapes from me. Suddenly in a gust of wind a scroll is dropped down to me and the shadow is lifted from the room. I catch my breath and pick up the scroll of parchment. Holding my breath I start reading.
Lady Elizabeth Middleford, Please forgive me for my late greetings as I have been tied up in matters of some importance. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Alice; please accept my most joyous welcome. I hope that you are happy and safe here in Wonderland. I would greatly enjoy your presence at my dinner table this evening, if you are so inclined. I will send a dressing maid and an escort for you when time grows near. With firmest regards, Alice.
Once my shock subsides I reread the letter over and over again. Who is this Alice? And why have they sent me a dinner invitation? How am I supposed to get there and, oh my! What am I to wear? Well, I guess when the time comes if anything is to happen it will. I lie back on my bed because other than pacing and going back to the white room it is the only thing to do. Idly I recite snippets of childhood song and rhyme before I eventually drift off to sleep.
When I next wake it is to the sound of a small yet persistent bell ringing somewhere next to my ear. Groggily opening my eyes I see another of my look-alikes standing over me with her hands on her hips. She pulls me up to sitting, and tutting the whole while, begins to fuss with my hair. The whole thing seems utterly hilarious to me, though I dare not express my mirth for fear of someone taking offense. I am being held hostage in a cell, with a queen sized bed, in accompaniment of at least twenty other clones of myself, lost somewhere in a place called wonderland, and yet I have someone fussing over my hair so that I may accept a mysterious dinner invitation. I t all seems just a bit ironic. Yanking at my stubborn cowlick the girl gives up on the elaborate hair style she was attempting and fashions my hair back into my customary two pigtails. Donning a corset and multiple layers of stir petticoats I am then placed in a deep pink colored gown and ushered out the door to my waiting guard. He offers me his hand and leads me down yet another hallway. Much to my distress I realize that this hallway had also previously either gone unnoticed by me or had not existed at all. Both options made me shudder.