Chapter 9

January 28th, 1876

The Vale of Tears

1:53 A.M.

There was really nothing quite like walking through the Vale in its full glory.

Alice stepped lightly across the grass, relishing the gentle warmth of the sun on her face as it passed through the multicolored heads of the trees. A giant bleeding-heart flower swelled as she passed, dripping a trail of glowing pink petals down to the earth. She stroked it tenderly, then looked up as something moooed above her, catching sight of a Mock Sparrow on its nest, the horned head peeping over the thick basket of twigs. She waved at it, and at the googly-eyed snail that inched its way up the branch – it waggled its eye-stalks back at her. "What a beautiful day," she murmured, giggling as a nutterfly twirled circles about her head, leaving glittery blue dust in its wake. "And not even a single splash of blood anywhere to mar the landscape." She broke through the trees into a clearing, where one of her statue-selves wept a fresh torrent of tears, the water pooling at her waist before rushing off toward the edge of the world. "About time, too. After that lovely trip Below, I definitely want to show Victor my best face."

"Of course you do. Still such a slave to vanity!"

Alice jolted, then whirled around, the Vorpal Blade snapping into her hand like her fingers were magnetized. "Damn it – and here I was, thinking I'd finally. . .chased. . .you. . . ."

She trailed off, blinking. There was – absolutely no one behind her. The clearing was exactly as empty as when she'd first stepped foot into it. But there was no mistaking that voice. . .she turned in a slow circle, eyeing each and every gap between the trees. Any minute now. . .any minute, that awful burbling's going to start up, and

"Foolish child! How did you defeat me the first time if you can't even see what's beneath you?"

"Beneath?" Alice looked down. Sure enough, her shadow was missing, replaced by the silhouette of a buck-toothed beak, a sinuous neck, two tattered wings, and two sharp claws. "Oh, there you are! You'll have to excuse me – I was expecting something more – physical."

"I have form enough to remind you of your sins," the Jabberwock replied, the ghost of smoke pouring from his mouth. "Your never-ending guilt!"

Alice sighed heavily. "Ah. This again. My parents and sister weren't enough to run you off?"

"They were putting on an act – pretty words to disguise rotten feelings," the Jabberwock claimed, stalking from side to side. "You know the truth. You left that fire smoldering before bedtime. You saw Bumby skulking the halls. You were the first witness to the danger all your family was in. And still you ran away from it all. You flung yourself into the snow and let your family burn!"

"I flung myself into the snow because Mama and Papa were screaming for me to get out as they tried to save Lizzie," Alice replied, folding her arms. The Vorpal Blade glittered eagerly in the sun. "And Papa said that the log in the library looked dead enough to him as well when he went to sleep. I'll give you that I saw Bumby, but I didn't recognize him at the time. I thought he was a monster – er, a different one that he actually was," she corrected herself. "Was it all that surprising I'd retreat to Wonderland under the circumstances?"

The shadow hissed at her. "You still could have raised the alarm about your 'centaur!' You could have stayed in reality, instead of fleeing into fantasy!"

"How odd for you to insist that I stay in reality! Are you that eager not to exist?" Alice shook her head. "Mama and Papa took pains to remind me they were heavy sleepers – could I have roused them in time? Or would we all have roasted before they stirred?" She bit her lip. "And – and no matter what, by the time I saw him, we'd lost Lizzie. There was nothing I could have done in her case."

"You woke before she perished!" the Jabberwock insisted, flicking his tail. "You could have stormed her bedroom! Stopped him in his tracks!"

"As a half-asleep eight-year-old clutching a toy rabbit? Yes, I would have been a terrible threat to a deranged twenty-something who we know was very much unopposed to violence and murder if it meant getting what he wanted," Alice replied, the sarcasm thick enough to taste. "I probably just would have forced poor Lizzie into watching me get murdered. Who am I to inflict that on my sister?"

The shadow contracted, folding in on itself like her words were a physical blow. "You still could have done more!"

"Your arguments grow more vague – and more stale – every time we meet," Alice said, balancing the Vorpal Blade on the tip of her finger. "How many times have we been over this? Whatever mistakes I've made, I can't keep obsessing over them. Particularly those related to the fire. And especially now that I've gotten confirmation from Elder Gutknecht and Dr. Fixxler that there is no spell for altering the past." She smirked at the diminished shadow-beast. "You're scrabbling for survival, aren't you? Being reunited with my family – being told they don't blame me, that they still love me – must have weakened you horribly. You're barely more than an angry voice on the wind now. . . ."

The faded Jabberwock growled. "I will endure," he insisted, rearing up to his full height. "I will succeed. You may, in your madness, absolve yourself of your previous crimes. . .but when you fail Victor, I will lead the charge against you!"

SNICKERSNACK! And down went the Blade, burying itself into the earth right across the creature's neck. "No," she snarled, a hint of Ragebox red in her eyes. "You will never come near him. Any mistakes I make with him, I will atone for myself. And I know he will never hold it against me. The weight of my sins is one I can bear on my own. You are no longer needed, you vile beast. Even the Queen does not miss you! BEGONE!"

The sun flared above her, bathing everything in sharp white light. The Jabberwock screamed, a raw note of rage and pain. . .and then the brightness receded, leaving only her own image on the grass. Alice pulled the Vorpal Blade free of the dirt and looked around. "Was – was that it?"

She'd expected a flash of yellowed teeth, a snarky comment or obtuse riddle. . .but no. The Vale's only response was silence. But it was a different silence than before. More – peaceful. Like a great weight had been lifted off the entire world. Oh God. . .that was it, Alice realized, a grin brighter than the bleeding-heart stretching her face. That was really it. He's gone. After twelve years and two months of running and battling – he's finally gone. I'm free. I'm

squeak! creeaaak. . . .

Alice started, blinked – and just like that, the Vale was no more, replaced by a moonlit nightstand and washbasin. What – oh. Right. Hotel, she thought, yawning as her mind cranked itself up to speed. Off to Oxford. Yes. Doesn't explain the noise, though. She rolled over to seek out the source –

And found Victor already out of bed, tip-toeing his way toward the door. "Victor?"

Victor jumped, then turned with a guilty expression. "S-sorry," he mumbled. "I was h-hoping not to wake you. . .I'll – I'll be back in j-just a moment. I just need–" He made a walking motion with his fingers. "W-won't take long."

Alice eyed him. Even through the haze of freshly-interrupted sleep, she could see he was a bit paler than usual. And his hands kept moving back to his pajama collar, twisting and tugging any loose bit of cloth they could find. Never a good sign. "Nightmare?" she guessed.

He nodded. "Not like – but still – I'll feel better if I w-walk," he said, edging toward the door. He held up a hand. "I'll be back in j-just a couple of minutes. I promise."

And then he was out the door, closing it behind him before she could do much more than nod. Alice pushed herself up on one arm, listening as his footsteps faded down the hall. Oh dear – well, he did warn me that this might happen, she thought with a sigh. Hopefully he doesn't wake up Dr. Fixxler. . .or worse, anyone who might notice he came from the room that was supposed to be for the young lady alone. Then again, I'm a woman traveling with two men – one of whom is older and black – on a ten-day trip around England, with no proper chaperone in sight. Even for those who don't already know the story of the fire, my reputation is probably in tatters. She yawned. Well, so long as nobody kicks up enough of a fuss that I have to get married on Nell Van Dort's timetable instead of my own. Still, Victor, hurry back. If only because the bed is a lot colder without you here.

Fortunately, Victor was true to his word – two minutes later, he was back, slipping through the cracked door like a ghost. For a moment, he lingered there, staring at her with an unreadable expression. Then he crossed to the bed and wrapped her in the tightest hug she'd experienced since – well, since last night, when Lizzie's arms had locked around her. "I love you," he whispered, voice trembling.

"I love you too," Alice replied, now awake enough to be properly concerned. He was shaking like a leaf in her embrace. She rubbed his back, hoping to calm him down. "You're sure it wasn't like that last one?"

"I'm not tearing my face off, right? Or running screaming to the washroom?" Alice nodded, giving him the point. "It really wasn't that bad. . .if only because it was short. I just. . . ." He sucked down a deep, shuddering breath. "It's too r-raw, right now. I need some time."

"It's all right," Alice assured him. She scooted a little closer and pulled him half-into her lap, her hand snaking into his hair. He relaxed almost immediately, snuggling against her. "Take whatever time you need. Just be sure to put it back when you're done."

Victor laughed. "I'll try." He glanced up at her. "I didn't disturb you too badly, did I?"

"No," Alice promised him. "And even if you had – well, I'd rather be up to comfort you than sleeping soundly while you suffered."

Victor bit his lip. "You said as much before. . .but you know me. I'd rather you not have to worry about me."

"Sorry, Victor – that's part and parcel of being a couple," Alice told him, poking his nose. "But hey – now I don't have to wait until morning to tell you the good news."

"Good news?" he echoed, lifting his head.

Alice nodded, a sharp grin turning her lips. "The Jabberwock's down. For good this time."

"The Jabberwock?" Victor sat up a little straighter. "You haven't mentioned him in a while. . .I thought perhaps he was already gone."

"I thought so too, but then he appeared tonight while I was traversing the Vale," Alice explained. "Or, well, part of him appeared – rather than getting his own body, he had to be satisfied with warping my shadow. He started spouting all the usual nonsense about the fire, and my family – I threw the words right back in his face. And then, when he tried bringing up you, I stabbed him right in whatever passed for his neck. Moments later, he was gone – and I just knew it was the last time." She smiled. "I know the professed reason for meeting my family was to calm my hallucinations. . .but this feels like the bigger victory. Clearing the dominoes and dice from the world is nothing to knowing the worst part of my madness is finally defeated."

Victor's face lit up. "Oh, Alice. . .I'm so happy for you," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "I was so afraid that he would keep tormenting you all your life – especially after that incident with Witless. . . ."

"Let's not think about that," Alice said, rubbing her throat as she recalled her turn in the monster's courtroom. "I'm just thrilled that I was wrong about him never truly going away." She hooked a hand around Victor's head, pulling him forward. "Thank you so, so much for accidentally marrying a corpse that one time."

Victor chuckled. "I'm glad it worked out so well for somebody."

"I think we can all agree it was one of your better mistakes." Without further ado, she leaned in for a kiss. . . .

Only for Victor to tense and jerk away, lips pressed tight. She blinked, and he blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking away. "I – I s-should tell you that d-dream I just had. . .well, it involved R-Ruin getting v-vomited into my mouth."

"Guh!" Alice released him in favor of pressing a hand to her stomach, which seemed to have taken an abrupt bounce on one of her springy mushrooms. "I thought my brain came up with some disgusting images. . .you poor thing."

"I'm sorry," Victor repeated with feeling. "I don't – I want to – I-I'll be better in the morning."

"It's all right," Alice assured him. "I can wait." She ruffled his hair, then pushed back the covers. "Come on – we ought to get a little more sleep before you have to switch back into 'your' room."

That got a smile, though a rather faded one. "Right." Victor folded himself around her, his cheek resting against her hair. "I do love you," he mumbled into her scalp.

"I love you too." Alice drew the blankets back over them, then pressed her head into Victor's chest, listening as his breathing gradually slowed. Thinking about how pale and worn he'd been when he'd left the bed, a specter of his usual self. How tightly he'd held her upon returning, as if afraid she'd somehow be taken from him. How tense he'd been during the failed kiss, and how ashamed he'd sounded when he'd confessed to his dream. Quite the contrast to me stabbing the last remains of my guilt to death, she thought, worrying her bottom lip. Once again, it's like for my mind to heal, his has to fall apart. And I'm trying to give him the space he says he needs, but. . .is it really working? She sighed. "Observe, learn, and react," the Cat once told me. Well, I'm observing, and I'm learning that Victor's struggle against his own brain isn't going well. But how do I react?

"With care," Cheshire said, his smile a strip of yellowed moonlight in the air. "Your theories are sound, but you still lack the whole picture. It's hard to see what's printed inside another's skull."

Not as hard as you think with the spell we recently learned, Alice retorted. But I suppose you're right. Until he lets me in, I'll just have to make do out here. Provide balance, as you said before. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing their bodies tightly together as she shut her eyes. "Don't worry, Victor," she mumbled. "I am not going to fail you."

February 1st, 1876

Oxford, England

10:26 A.M.

"So – this is where your house stood?"

"It is."

"Huh. It's – different than I expected."

"Same here. For starters, I was expecting another house."

"I think we all were," Fixxler put in, as they gazed across the expanse of dead grass, dormant shrubs, empty benches, and frozen fountains that had taken the place of the Liddell family estate. "Shouldn't that lawyer of yours told you that they'd turned this spot into a memorial park?"

"It would have been nice," Alice nodded, folding her arms. "Which is likely why he neglected to say anything. He must have used up his yearly quota of pleasantness on apologizing to me for insinuating I had something to do with the fire."

"It's a nice little park, at least," Victor said, venturing onto the path.

"It is," Alice agreed, following. The gravel crunched in a very satisfying way under her feet. "Though I'm sure it's much nicer in the spring, once everything starts blooming and they can run the fountains again."

"We'll have to remember to come back once the weather starts getting warmer," Victor agreed. He ran his fingers over the stone back of a bench set nearby. "What do you think your family would make of this?"

"Oh, I think they'd like it well enough," Alice said, peeking through the dry branches of a little hedge. "We had a decent back garden when this patch of land was still ours. Mama kept rose bushes, and rows of daisies and daffodils. We had lilies for a little while too, but then someone told us that they weren't good for cats and we got rid of them. Good thing, too, as Kitty was forever trying to eat the other flowers. We also had some ornamental cherry trees – I was gravely disappointed the day I was tall enough to pick a few and taste them. Asked Papa what on earth was the point of a tree that made fruit you couldn't even eat."

"Birds like them," Victor said, weaving his way down the path. "We had one too, in our back garden, and every time it fruited, we'd have flocks of birds coming in to feast. Drove Mother mad, as you might imagine."

"You had room for a back garden in that pokey little town?" Fixxler asked, leaning on one of the benches.

"You didn't see the whole house," Victor reminded him.

"You'd need a week to see the whole house."

Victor laughed. "Fair enough, but still. It's not a very big back garden, admittedly – as you say, pokey little town. And my mother has never been a fan of nature. To her, anything green that wasn't on her dinner plate was to be regarded with deep suspicion. And anything furry needed to be killed so she could wear its skin."

"Papa always claimed not to hate fur coats – 'at least that means the poor creature's still being useful,'" Alice said, dropping her voice in imitation. "I think five minutes with your mother and her stoles would make him change his mind."

"She could probably make the most ardent fur-lover take up the cause against it," Victor agreed, sighing. "But the nobility wears furs and feathers, so she has to as well. And the nobility have flower gardens, so she made sure there was room for one when the mansion was built. I never saw her use it, but I had plenty of happy hours in it as a child." He smiled into the middle distance. "Caught my first butterflies there. Drew my first pictures too."

"We had regular picnics out in ours," Alice said, rocking nostalgically. "Papa was a firm believer in fresh air being good for the body and spirit of both sexes. And once the weather got good enough, he was almost always pottering around out there with his camera, taking pictures of this and that. Mama and Lizzie liked to tease him, but – I always found his hobby rather magical. Aim a big box with a glass bit on one end at a tree, press a button, wait ten minutes, disappear with the box into a darkened room stinking of some mysterious chemical soup. . .and voila! The tree is preserved for posterity in paper form, ready to be hung on the wall and admired for the rest of your days." She went still as flames and smoke raced across her mind's eye. "Or, at least, until the library burns and takes all your hard-earned photographs with it."

Victor slipped his arm around her. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low. "For you and him. All that hard work, gone in a single night. . . ." He stared off at the horizon, and Alice knew he was seeing his own pictures being torn from his wall. He came back to himself with a little shake. "Perhaps some of them managed to end up Downstairs, somehow. Like Elder Gutknecht's books."

"I doubt it, given that the library was the epicenter of the whole disaster. . .but it would be nice," Alice admitted, turning her face to the sky. A few lonely cards faded in from Cardbridge, swooping across the clouds. "Though, on the other hand, considering he still blames himself a bit for keeping all his flammable equipment in there, ready for Bumby's mischief, maybe it's for the best that they're gone."

"Still. . . ." Victor sighed, then gave her a squeeze. "How are you doing?"

Alice turned back to him as the cards disappeared, off to warmer climes. "Better than I expected, honestly," she told him. "Whenever I pictured coming back here, I always saw myself so overwhelmed with tears I cried a new Vale."

"Doubt the rest of Oxford would appreciate that," Fixxler noted, glancing back at the main road. "But if you want to have a smaller cry, we won't tell anyone. God knows I'd want one if I were in your place."

"I thought I would, but. . .well, I'm not really sad anymore," Alice told him. She linked hands with Victor, tugging him up along the path toward the large fountain that formed the hub of the park. "Not after seeing them again so recently. Knowing for sure that they're all right Downstairs. That they're not as far away as I always feared." She sat on the lip of the basin, smiling out at the hibernating hedges and flower plots. "And to see all this. . .to know that my father, my whole family, was held in such high esteem by the city as to warrant all this. . .it's truly touching."

"Mmmm. . .shame the other residents considered you too touched to tell you of its existence," Cheshire put in from the back of her head.

Alice rolled her eyes. "I'm trying not to think about that, Cat."

"More sarcasm from him?" Victor guessed, sitting down next to her.

"As per usual. . .though at least now he isn't manifesting beside me," Alice said, patting the empty spot on her other side. "Wonderland's been very well behaved for the past few days, actually. I still get little flashes here and there, but for the most part, I stay pretty firmly in reality."

"Well, that's good!" Victor said, smiling. "Means this trip did exactly what it was supposed to."

"Indeed," Alice agreed. "Dr. Wilson should be thrilled to hear it. I know he's felt guilty in the past about not being able to help me more in Rutledge."

"He seems like a good man," Fixxler commented, taking the open space on her right. "At least, I appreciate that I can talk to him about more magical matters and not get thrown in an asylum myself."

"He's not the type to do that," Victor assured him. "Even before he learned that it was all real, he didn't think I needed any treatment at all for my 'delusion' of a corpse bride. He thought I was just working through some fears, and that the best thing to do was leave me alone. But Mother wouldn't have it. . . ." He sighed heavily. "And then, after Bumby. . .I don't think I would have trusted anyone else who walked through that door to take over."

"Me either," Alice said. "Perhaps he's not the best or the brightest in his profession – but they thought Bumby was, so I'm not inclined to believe anyone else's opinion on that matter anymore. I'll take mediocrity if it means someone who listens. Now I just have to either get him off his amateur concocting or get you, Fixxler, to show him how to brew up proper potions that won't make his patients addicted or dead."

"I could give him the lesson in an afternoon," Fixxler said. "Does depend on how magically skilled he is, of course. And if he's willing to listen."

"He's open to trying new things – which is part of the problem with his homemade drugs," Alice said, scraping her tongue against her teeth as she recalled the vile taste of his favorite Rutledge brew. "Just get him to stop using such over-enthusiastic amounts of laudanum. And drop the arsenic and opium altogether."

Fixxler touched his hat. "I'll do my best."

Alice nodded, then turned back to Victor. "You – should probably tell him about your nightmares," she said cautiously. "When you're ready. If you haven't already."

As expected, Victor stiffened. "Well. . .uh. . .do you r-really think that's necessary?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head. "I mean, they're not f-fun, but. . .I'm doing all right, d-dealing with them. Aren't I?"

Alice frowned dubiously. "I'm not sure I would classify waking up as much as you do in the middle of the night lately as 'all right.'"

"I've always suffered from bouts of insomnia," Victor argued. "You know that. I'm used to having to get up and do something else for a while. Do I look any worse than I usually do?"

"Victor – you're naturally whiter than a ghost, and the dark circles around your eyes could rival a raccoon's," Alice responded. "It's kind of hard to tell."

Fixxler snorted. "She's got you there," he said, as Victor rolled his eyes. "But I've noticed that too, on this trip. You never look rested in the morning. It can't be healthy."

"Again, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. . . ."

"I'm not trying to push – not really," Alice said, rubbing his hand with her thumb. "I'm just – suggesting. I know you want to deal with this on your own. But Dr. Wilson would probably at least like a status update. Just so he knows any noises in the middle of the night aren't someone else trying to break in."

"You were just saying how he needs to use less laudanum on people," Victor pointed out.

"Could give you both the recipe for a sleeping potion," Dr. Fixxler suggested. "Only a temporary fix, but. . . ."

Victor tugged at the knot of his tie. "Well – I'll think about it," he finally said. "But I'd like to see if I can make them go away on their own first. I've been trying and trying to think of happy things before bed. . . .but you know how contrary brains can be," he added, looking at Alice.

"A sentiment I understand all too well," Alice nodded. "Perhaps part of the trick is to make some more happy memories for you to dwell on." She stood up, giving his arm a tug. "So, on that note, how about we all proceed over to the Isis? It may not be boating season, but I'm sure the river still has its pleasures."

Victor smiled, relaxing again. "I'd like that very much."

February 5th, 1876

Houndsditch Home, Whitechapel, England

2:27 P.M.

"Welcome back!"

Alice quickly put down her bags as June launched herself at her for a hug, laughing as she caught the other woman in her arms. "I take it you missed us!"

"Well, of course I did!" June said, pulling back with a bounce. "It just hasn't been the same without you here. We all feel the same way. Just the other day Reggie told me he hoped you'd be back soon!"

"Probably because he's expecting some sort of present," Alice replied, looking past her at the open front door. "So where is the rabble, then?"

"All at the barber's – Dr. Wilson felt everyone was due for a haircut," June explained, picking up one of Alice's bags. "He insisted I stay behind in case you came back before he did – hello Victor!" she added, waving over Alice's head. "Hello Dr. Fixxler! Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Mostly!" Dr. Fixxler replied, hanging onto the side of the carriage. "Burtonsville got even less friendly after you left, though. Victor can tell you about it – I ought to get back to my shop."

"Oh, won't you stay a moment?" June beseeched. "I'll make an early tea for you all. Surely you want a sandwich and a hot drink after your long trip?"

"We did skip lunch in favor of getting here sooner," Victor admitted, rubbing his stomach. "And you know the food is more than worth it."

"Not to mention it's about the only time you could visit here without being inundated with requests for magic tricks," Alice put in.

"Truuuueee. . . ." Fixxler tapped his fingers on his chin, considering then hopped down. "All right then, I suppose I can stay for a bit. How much would it cost me to have you drive this over to Dr. Fixxler's Mysterious Elixirs and drop it off around the back?" he asked the cabbie.

"Say – five extra shillings for my time?" the cabbie replied, holding out his hand.

"I'll make it six." Fixxler handed over the money and waved as the carriage clopped off. "That little bit extra means a lot in the long run, I've found," he said to the others.

"Trust me, I learned the value of a touch of bribery in this section of London long ago," Victor nodded. "Hopefully he doesn't just throw your bags on the doorstep and rush off."

"Eh, I didn't bring anything with me that couldn't be replaced – otherwise I wouldn't be standing here with you." Fixxler rubbed his hands together. "Tea then?"

"Coming up!" June said, grabbing another bag before leading the way back indoors. "Here, let's just drop these back in your room, and I'll get the kettle on and the sandwiches arranged." She bit her lip. "So, um, what happened in Burtonsville then?"

"Something just shy of an angry mob," Alice explained, cradling another bag against her chest. "The other villagers were not keen on Victor showing his face there again."

"I managed to shout them down after one started throwing mud, but – I think I was very lucky Pastor Galswells didn't show up to whip them into a frenzy," Victor said, rubbing his eye as they reached their room.

"Tell me about it – how on earth did you and yours live there for so long?" Fixxler asked, dropping the luggage he'd grabbed on the bed. "Your mother said being outside the village helped, but. . . ."

"Well, to be fair, we also never got called demons by the pastor," June said with a sigh. "I mean, we all got looks sometimes, and there was that incident with Lord Everglot, but – wait." She turned to him with a baffled look. "My mother said that?"

"June, the whole point of the trip was to visit the Land of the Dead," Alice said with a little chuckle. "Are you really that surprised we ran into your recently-deceased mother in your own hometown?"

"Just. . .you said before you were looking for that 'Elder Gutknecht,' so I didn't think. . .is she all right?" June asked, clasping Alice's hands. "Is she happy?"

"She's just fine, June," Alice promised, smiling. "And so is your brother."

"Jeremy? You met Jeremy too?!"

"We met Sam, yes," Victor said with a laugh. "Or, as he tends to be known these days, Bonejangles."

"Bone–" June's eyes went round. "Wait a minute, that singing skeleton from your story about Emily – that's my brother?!"

Alice succumbed to another giggle. "Again, you're that surprised?"

"Well, it's just – I never met him, and apparently he died on the road, so I didn't. . .and to think. . . ." June shook her head rapidly. "I need tea."

"That would probably be for the best, yes," Alice said, taking her elbow and steering her toward the kitchen. "Since we have yet another surprise to drop on you."

"What now? I know all my sisters are alive – at least, they'd all better be–"

"No, no, this has to do with my family," Alice quickly reassured her. "Specifically, the fact that we found them in Burtonsville, not Oxford. Because apparently my sister and your brother are – an item, let's say?"

June froze, eyes wide. "What? Your Lizzie and – my Jeremy?"

Alice nodded. "Apparently they were getting to know each other Downstairs around the same time frame as Victor and I were growing close up here, and – well, he managed to charm her like no undergraduate ever managed."

"My my. . .the world cannot be that small," June insisted, pinching her nose. "It's like – like we were all fated to know each other at this point!"

Alice grinned at Victor. "Told you so."

"You said she'd say something about 'destiny,' not fate," Victor reminded her, smirking back.

"It's close enough!"

"Well, can you blame me?" June said, shaking her head. "It's coincidence after coincidence with us! Yes, fine, Burtonsville is tiny, but still!" She pulled free of Alice, beelining toward the kitchen door. "I'm putting the kettle on before you knock me to the floor with yet another revelation."

Alice chuckled as she followed, the men in their wake. "Don't worry, that should be the last of them. And if it helps, we were shocked ourselves by the whole thing."

"Yes – of all the people I expected to see there, the Liddells were definitely not on the list," Victor agreed. "But they fit in just fine. They're quite close to your mother too, these days."

"I would hope so, if Lizzie and Jeremy are together," June said, filling the kettle. "Dr. Fixxler, could you see what we have for tea, please?" She grinned at Alice. "Do you think they might get married one day? It would be funny to be able to introduce you as 'technically my sister-in-law' to people."

Alice chuckled. "Well, Lizzie said that she and Bonejangles were taking it slow. . .you don't get over such a miserable suitor as Bumby too quickly. But she didn't completely discount the possibility either." She located a loaf of bread in the pantry. "Oh, by the way, Bonejangles asked us to pass on a message."

"Oh?" June asked, putting the kettle on to boil.

"Yes." Alice came over and poked her in the shoulder. "Stop calling him Jeremy!"

"What?" June rubbed her arm, blinking. "But that's his name!"

"Maybe, but he hates it, June," Victor explained, trying not to smile. "He prefers Sam. Or Bonejangles, obviously."

"He also said that everyone else in the family always called him Sam," Dr. Fixxler added, looking through a cupboard. "I only see Earl Grey – is that all right with everyone?" Alice, Victor, and June all nodded. "All righty then. . .you're apparently the only one to ever call him Jeremy," he continued, pulling out the box and tossing it to June. "Why is that?"

June's face flushed an embarrassed red. "Well, it's – it's a bit silly, really," she admitted, twisting her braid around her fingers. "I don't even remember it very well now, but – when I was about four years old, Mama and my sisters took me to visit Jerem-Sam's grave. Nora showed me how to sound out the name chiseled on his stone – I was very proud when I managed to say it all right. So proud, in fact, that whenever I heard someone refer to him as 'Sam' or 'Samuel,' I automatically corrected them. And when Mama tried to stop me, I – um – threw a bit of a fit," she confessed, cheeks going even darker. "Yelling that his name was Jeremy, it was on his stone, I knew what it said. . .and I guess neither Mama nor my sisters felt it worth fighting with me about. In fact, I recall that as we were leaving, Hester told Claire, 'Well, he's dead anyway – what does he care?'"

"Rather a lot, as it turns out," Alice said, pulling out the cutting board. Victor kindly opened the cutlery drawer and handed her the bread knife. "Thank you. . .he actually refused to tell Lizzie his first name for the longest time because he thought it didn't suit him."

June winced. "Oh dear. . .I never meant any offense! I just. . .it made me feel a bit closer to him, honestly. Everyone says we look kind of alike, and we were both the J-names in the family, so. . . ." She worried her lip. "I probably should have guessed he wouldn't be fond of it, though. My father was the one to choose the name – Mama told me so. And he was – well, my sisters said he was nice when he was around, but I never knew him. He was long gone before I was born. Gambling debts gone wrong, Mama said. Why she never liked to see us playing with dice or daring each other to do things. I don't think she ever forgave him for disappearing – and I'm not sure Jer-Sam did either."

"It's all right, June," Victor assured her, going over to pat her back. "I'm sure he'll forgive you once he learns you were just trying to honor his memory."

"Exactly," Alice agreed. "Don't blame yourself for a mistake you made when you were just barely out of diapers. Just try to do better now."

"I'll try," June promised, nodding. "Though it'll take some doing to train my tongue to say 'Sam' instead."

"Well, if it helps, it's hard for me to think of him as 'Sam' myself," Victor said, smiling. "He really is more of a 'Bonejangles.'"

"Maybe, but that'll just cause more confusion every time I start recounting my family history!" June pointed out with a giggle. "Especially among my sisters. But I'll get it down eventually. For his sake."

"That's the spirit," Dr. Fixxler said. "Anything else I can help with?"

"Well, Alice seems to have the bread in order. . .how about getting out some biscuits, while you're over there," June said, checking on the kettle. "We should have a fresh box of chocolate digestives."

"Oooh – yes, please," Victor nodded, licking his lips.

Alice snorted. "Anything with chocolate is a must-have, hmmm?"

"You're the same way with cake," Victor retorted. Alice shrugged a shoulder, giving him the point. He moved a little closer, dropping his voice. "So that went well. Though she didn't bounce around quite as much as expected."

"Give it a bit," Alice said, watching as June tended to the kettle. "Once the shock wears off. But I didn't think it would go badly. June believes our stories, and – well, it's good news we've given her. Her mother and brother are happy Downstairs, and if she ever ventures back to Burtonsville on Halloween, she can see them again. And we can pass on letters in the meantime, if she likes."

"Mmm – we should probably at least send a note along saying that the 'Jeremy' business has been cleared up," Victor agreed, smiling. He glanced down at the floor, then back at her. "So - that's part one of our trip officially done. What about part two?"

Landscapes raced across Alice's mind – the Vale of Tears, full of rainbow-tinted trees and swirly bouncy mushrooms. . .Hatter's Domain, a floating armada of factories under a toxic green sky. . .the Deluded Depths, miles of deep blue water, brittle white coral, soft yellow sand, and shattered brown shipwrecks. . .the Mysterious East, origami villages and blue-and-white-china all advancing up a tiny mountain of jade. . .Queensland, glorious in its wreckage, dead tentacles reaching to the sky, a bloody red heart still beating at its center. . .the Dollhouse, fading colors brightening with new life, old battered toys finding love and warmth again. "Give me tonight just to get used to sleeping in my own bed again," she said, touching his arm. "And then tomorrow – we'll go. I promise."

Victor beamed. "I can't wait."

Alice smiled back, heart fluttering. "Please try. I'll be worth it."