Though she was not normally the attention-seeking type, Alice basked in the concern of the three housemates of Witzend. She was fed, clothed and entertained as well as listened to and taken seriously. It all felt like wonderful dream. Mally had not yet reappeared, and Alice was beginning to think she'd been warned off. She felt a bit bad for the girl, but not yet enough to broach the subject with any of the others. Perhaps Mally was busy with her own pursuits. It had only been two days, really.

Alice had been sleeping a lot, luxuriating in this new environment where anything she wanted to do was possible. She'd been taken out to dinner, had met a few more of the folks that Tarrant and Thackery hung around with. There were cute coffee shops and dusty antiques stores near the house, and Tarrant had insisted she take some pocket money. An advance on future earnings, he said mysteriously, though how he thought she was going to get any earnings was beyond her. When she'd protested he'd just shaken his head.

Alice spent Wednesday working on her paper and lounging around the house while Tarrant was at work. That morning he'd dug a battered and be-stickered laptop out of the piles of papers on the counter in his workroom and handed it to her, saying he barely used it since he'd gotten a tablet. She ate what Thackery made her for lunch (beef stew which was delicious and a salad slathered in dressing that went down much easier than the dry salads Alice was used to being subjected to) and volunteered to do the dishes afterwards. He dried, saying the kitchen was his duty, and she discovered that he didn't even have to pay rent. Thackery's responsibilities included tending the garden, doing the shopping most of the time, cooking regular meals when convenient and alerting the others when he would not be able to. He also saw to the day to day maintenance of the house.

"Tarrant doesn't need the money," Thackery concluded, "Bu' he'd be lost without th' help. Not havin' tae pay rent lets me work when ah want to and make mah own schedule. Not sittin' at a desk all day suits me best."

"Does Nivens pay rent then?" Alice asked. This was all making her feel a little bit better about being a freeloader, for she had been very concerned about settling in too much in a house that was already occupied by three housemates and that she could not contribute to monetarily.

"I think he pays something paltry like a hundred pounds a month to an account that goes straight toward property taxes. He also gives me about the same per month for board and has to do weekly cleaning excepting the kitchen that I do and Tarrant's workroom which he's fussy abou' keeping a disaster zone," Thack replied.

"Quite a bargain," Alice said mildly, though she added anxiously, "And you all don't mind his boyfriend being over?"

Thackery twitched his teasing smile, seeing that she was concerned she was intruding.

"Nah, he's fine. Doesn't bother us a bit. Besides, Nivens' real responsibility is too vital: he organizes all the inspections and negotiates repairs with the historic trust. The house is so old that we cannae scarcely change a light bulb without putting in a request in triplicate ahead of time. Nivens hires plumbers and roofers and all tha', though Tarrant pays the repair fees. Good thing there's someone else tae handle that sort o thing. I'm no hand at it, and it drives Tarrant straight up the feckin' wall. I think he scared the living daylights out of the last historical preservationist who came by to do an inspection before Nivens turned up ."

"Tarrant frightened an inspector?" Alice asked this incredulously, as if she'd never heard anything so absurd.

Thackery flinched visibly, and Alice couldn't see why. He twisted his tea towel around the lip of the bowl he was drying over and over. Something was bothering him, that much Alice could tell.

"I've known Tarrant for years, since we were weans. He's a fantastic person, my best mate. Bu' it's probably good fur ye to know, especially under your current circumstances, that he's no saint. He has the gift of those clever hands from his mum and a spatial mind to go with em from his da, but he's also got the curse of the Hayes temper. Been in more scraps than ah can count because o' it. He's loads calmer as he's got older, but the anger is still there. He's just better at never letting it out."

Alice looked taken aback. Tarrant had been so unfailingly kind and gentle with her since they'd met that she couldn't imagine him otherwise. Though she knew Thackery had the benefit of years (decades even) of experience, whilst she'd only met Tarrant days ago, she wanted to defend him against this accusation.

"I can't possibly imagine Tarrant ever hurting me," she said stiffly.

"Oh no, no no. He'd never do tha'," Thackery agreed quickly. "But you must have noticed that he's dreadfully protective. Only met you on Saturday and by Sunday he was probably ready tae take a bullet for ye."

Alice recalled Tarrant's mistaken notion at the Vetvier afterparty that she might have been avoiding some sort of stalker. He had seemed awfully concerned. Would this extend to defending her physically? This seemed to be what Thackery was suggesting. Something about this rankled in Alice's feminist spirit. She would like to see to her own defense, thank you very much.

Though this week had shown that she'd been much too oblivious about what she'd needed defending from, She'd never thought to look at her own family as potentially harming her. Thackery had seen it, and Tarrant had removed her from the situation and together the two of them had arranged for her care and recovery. Not terribly self-actualized of her, but Alice still felt extremely grateful. She would have to figure out how to assess dangers for herself in the future.

"I don't want anyone to die for me," she said slowly. "In fact, I don't want anyone to die at all."

Thackery nodded. "That's sensible. And I'd like tae leave it at tha' except fur both your sakes I'd like to warn you of one more thing, which follows from the other. Tarrant-he was getting better about this also-but he's had something happen not too long ago an well, the less said about tha' the better," Thackery mumbled that last bit and hurried on, "But he can get terribly jealous an paranoid if he thinks there's somethin' going on behind his back. If there's ever anything you suspect he ought tae know, jest tell him straight away. Wi' Tarrant, honesty really is the best policy. He might not like it, but he'll cope if it's said outrigh'."

Alice nodded. That made sense. If she wanted to be her own person and forge her own path, she would leave behind her mother and sister's tools of manipulation. Being forthright came most naturally to Alice after all. She'd be careful to apply this to her dealings with Tarrant and all would be well.

The back door in the living room slammed.

"Speak o the devil," Thackery said loudly, as Tarrant stepped into the kitchen. "Yer home early."

Tarrant shook a few droplets of rain off of his hat. He wore a cap that fit under the hood of his rain slicker, though he removed it to squeeze out his soaked hair. Thackery scowled at the resulting puddle on the black and white tiled floor of the kitchen.

"Told ye not to cycle this mornin'," he grumbled as he looked in the lower cupboard for a rag to toss on the floor over the wet spot.

Tarrant shrugged. "It wasn't too bad until just now. I finished the Royal order this morning, so I thought I'd better clear out so it could be packed up and delivered. Thankfully," he grabbed an apple from a bowl on the countertop and chomped into it, "that is not my department."

Alice finished the last of the dishes and dumped out the water, suddenly grateful for the turn in her family's fortunes that allowed her to assist in such simple tasks. If they'd retained their lifestyle after her father's death, Alice wouldn't have had the first idea what to do with a sink full of dirty dishes except to leave them for the maid.

"Royal order? As in for actual Royals?" Alice sounded more curious than impressed, but Tarrant agreeably responded. He was proud of this accomplishment, but not unduly so. It had been hard work updating their standards and still providing the stability that the older clientèle had come to expect.

"Yes, for many years now Bembury has hatted the Queen. She held out through the worst of it too, thank goodness, though I was always called in from wherever I was to at least look those hats over after Uncle August's eyesight started to fail. It's only now that some of the other members of the family have started ordering. Thankfully not yet Kate Middleton, or I'd never be able to climb out from under orders."

Alice looked surprised, then replied vaguely, "Oh yes, Kate is supposed to marry William now. Well, that's good, she always was one of the nicer ones."

Thackery and Tarrant shared a look of perplexity, both waiting to see if Alice would follow this remark with anything further. When she did not Thackery shrugged and went back to cleaning the counters.

Tarrant finished his apple, tipping the core into the basket of compost that Thackery had grabbed to take out to the bin by the garden. As soon as he was out the door, Tarrant wrapped his arms around Alice and kissed her. The usual thrill rippled through her, and Alice savored his attention. Things hadn't progressed any further with them than kisses, and while this frustrated Alice, she had to admit that it was probably for the best considering her current liminal state. She suspected that Thackery had said something to Tarrant despite saying he wouldn't release medical details, but she couldn't really blame him. Besides, and there was a lot to be said that might not fall into the realm of disclosing things he ought not to.

When Tarrant had eaten a little more they went back to his workroom and settled into their own tasks. Alice loved this sort of easy camaraderie that developed so naturally with him. He was generally the perfect parts interested in her and absorbed in his own work. Once he got going she didn't like to disturb him, so she was surprised when he paused in the middle of cutting some blue denim and spoke.

"Alice, I believe you have a shoot tomorrow at Vetvier. Are you planning to go?" Tarrant asked hesitantly, setting down his scissors and walking over to where she was scrunched on a stool at the end of his cluttered countertop.

Alice hugged her knees to her chest. She'd been using his sketchpad to draw one of her cat drawings. This time a trio of sophisticated felines stared out at the viewer even as they presided over a tea table in a sunsoaked rose garden. Tarrant looked over her shoulder and giggled.

She smiled shyly. "Do you like it? It's just doodles, nothing fancy."

"Alice, you have a charmingly absurd style. It's wonderful. I would love to see as many cat drawings as you can come up with. But I do think you should warn Absolem if you don't want to go tomorrow."

Alice's face scrunched into a pout. "I know. I'll go. Do you know what time it is then?"

Tarrant's eyebrows rose. "I happen to know you're to be there at eight if you're going. But are you certain you want to go, considering your circumstances?"

"Well, modeling is my job after all. I don't think I've gained enough in two and a half days to make me ineligible, and whether or not mother has wronged me, she and Margaret still need to eat and pay rent. Nevermind the fact that you all have been allowing me to impose on you. I suppose I shall soon have to look for other employment. Do you think perhaps the Duchess would let me pour drinks? Or at least check coats? I don't think I could be any worse than her current employee."

"Alice, you are not at all obligated to continue earning for your mother and sister. I hope you'll come to realize that you never were. And you are absolutely welcome here. I understand that you will need to choose your own occupation, but please don't worry about your daily expenses. That can be easily taken care of. I've put friends on the Bembury payroll before, and none of them claimed to have gotten paid for nothing. There's always something to do. And I hope—I very much hope—that you feel comfortable staying here. Not just for your recovery, but for as long as you wish to. I know it's sudden, and the circumstances are unorthodox, but I would hate to lose you just because our situation falls out of the bounds of what is usual."

"Oh Tarrant, thank you. And I appreciate your kindness more than I can say. I've had to rely on it this week and I daresay I'll have to do so for a while longer. However, I do think I need to learn to take care of myself. Don't you think that's as important a part of all this growing up Thackery and Dr. Tuttle have gone on about as gaining weight and increasing hip and bust circumference?"

"Of course I agree, and I wouldn't dream of depriving you of whatever educational experiences you feel you require," Tarrant sighed and pulled at his hair a bit. He knew Alice needed to feel free, and didn't want to constrain her, but he still hoped she would stay. "If you decide though, that being here with me is what would be best for you, not to be taken care of, but as a full participant who makes her own choices, please remember that path is open to you as well."

"But everything here is so easy!" she blurted. "Don't you think I should need to endure a little more hardship? My whole life I've had everything handed to me. Even the bad things. It all just sort of happened to me. I want to decide."

Tarrant smiled at her determination. "I well understand that feeling of rebelling against the hand fate has dealt one. I do not mean to sound patronizing Alice, but perhaps your sheltered lifestyle has prevented you from fully exploring these coming-of-age feelings before."

Alice squirmed. She had not told him in so many words that her physical development had been delayed. She hoped desperately not to put him off of any physical attraction he might have for her, and admitting she was not physically mature seemed to put things in very awkward territory. Though it was not out of the question that he was more right than he knew, and her hormones might be beginning to pull her down certain emotional paths without her noticing. She would have to be more vigilant, and remember to logically evaluate the best course of action.

Tarrant continued as if reading her mind, "It's not so long ago that I cannot remember finishing primary school and insisting that I was going to be a professional footballer and bollocks to hats and tailoring an' posh accents ah wasnae ashamed of mah accen' an' if all tha didnae work out ah was a fair lockpick and safecracker."

"You considered crime as a potential fallback career to football?" Alice sounded intrigued and not even slightly judgemental.

"Well, my mother had plenty to say against the idea, but it took several years of losing school championships and one juvenile court complaint which was mercifully dropped (no harm was actually done) for me to be persuaded to completely give up. On either pursuit."

Alice laughed. "I'm glad you weren't convicted, but it does sound rather colorful."

"I was mostly in it for the thrill. I would frequently be challenged by my cousins or older siblings to get into various buildings around town, and I was rarely thwarted."

Tarrant's smug expression had Alice giggling into her hands.

"You seem very proud of adolescent Tarrant's antics."

"You know, I am. But I'm sure Alice the young girl was also a handful."

"Oh, I was a terror! I was never exactly a docile child, but once I reached the age eleven or so I became almost intolerably bossy. I had my best friend completely under my thumb. Some of the capers we got up to undoubtedly caused trouble for our parents and caretakers. I remember Chemsford-he was the butler-once finding us in the heating ducts of our country house after a few too many spy films. We'd gotten stuck and they had to take part of the ductwork down to get us out. Mother was livid but Daddy just laughed and said it was a good lesson in not attempting anything that would prove too tight a fit."

Alice's face had taken on a merry aspect when relating this nostalgic tale, so Tarrant didn't want to discourage her by leaping on these telling details. This was the first time he could recall Alice mentioning her father. He had to admit that the allusions to extreme wealth were not terribly surprising. Alice and her mother did not seem like women who started out barely scraping together the rent every month. Turning to modeling was more a way to keep up appearances of a posh lifestyle than a financially sound career choice. Models were as frequently paid in clothes, handbags, and the next round of head shots as cold hard cash. There must have been some sort of catastrophic event to reduce their circumstances so drastically.

Kingsleigh, Kingsleigh. The more Tarrant considered the name, the more certain he was that he'd heard it before in some capacity or other. Had there been anything in the news about Alice-life-changing events? If they were truly wealthy enough to have butlers and be acquainted with royals, it was not out of the question. Perhaps he could search, but it seemed rather gauche to ask Alice to hold on a tick while he googled her family tragedy.

Alice turned to another page to show him a drawing of more cats sunbathing on a cliff in Southern France and he couldn't bring himself to risk upsetting her with such talk. He eventually went back to his project which was jeans for Alice with expandable seams that would be very easy to let out if she did in fact grow as she'd warned she would. He usually left denim to the specialists who were more accustomed to rivets and thick seams than he, but if Alice was so tetchy about taking money right now she would probably object to spending the small amount she had accepted on a quality pair for whatever size she needed at the moment when that was likely to change.

So far she hadn't objected to the clothes that had turned up on her shelf in the laundry room, and he'd stayed fairly simple thus far so that she wouldn't feel out of place with his friends. Today had been simple small-check plaid trousers in blue and grey and a brown wool knit top with gathered seams that swooped back and forth, moving out from the collar. This hadn't seemed warm enough for the day, so he'd quickly made her a blue silk undershirt with long sleeves to retain her meager body heat. She'd put it on without a word one way or the other, so he hoped he could get away with the same again the next day.

He'd already made a green and blue tunic for her, sort of quilted from various small print cotton fabrics stitched together in wide vertical stripes. That could go over the jeans. He hadn't had time to knit her a loose cardigan which would have gone best over it-even for him such things took some time after all-so he'd sought out the softest thinnest wool felt he could find in his workroom (it was an acceptable cream color, thank goodness, or he might have had to change plans) and sort of stitched layers of it into sweater shape though much of it would hang down low as the tunic. It was rather sculptural, but not too inconvenient to wear, he hoped.

He'd stuck to trousers because as far as he could tell Alice had only her blue trainers for footwear and this was about as classy an outfit as he could pull together while keeping her looking acceptably chic and still wearing somewhat battered blue and white Adidas. She still hadn't seen his orange ones yet, but he thought tomorrow at the photo shoot was not the time. It would be best to present a moderately professional front for the two of them. Tarrant hurried to finish this for Alice, knowing that he'd have to have something further to show Absolem to justify his presence tomorrow, if only to satisfy appearances.

-o-o-o-

Tarrant and Alice went together to the Vetvier building on Thursday morning as planned. Thackery had wanted to come too in case Alice's mother was in attendance, but Tarrant had convinced his friend to leave Yelena to him. Thackery had clearly cast Alice's mother as the villain in this tale, but something told Tarrant that it wasn't that simple. That being said, he had suffered through calling Larry the PA himself before bringing up the issue with Alice to avoid having her call her mother for the specifics of the shoot. Larry had sounded extremely interested in the fact that Tarrant was arranging Miss Kingsleigh's schedule at the moment, and Tarrant knew that his involvement with Alice would be a known factor throughout the fashion world by the next day. Well, let them talk. He would much prefer to have it clear from the outset that Alice was with him and would need to be treated with more respect than the average expendable pretty face.

When they arrived, there was no mother in sight and Alice was whisked away by a team of stylists to a chair in the corner of the studio. Leaving Alice with her mobile in her hand and the instruction to text him the instant anything happened, Tarrant found someone to show him the empty space where he was supposed to be working on the summer line. He'd done loads of work already, but most of that was at home and a little bit at Bembury. Today he had brought some very specific drawings-more like diagrams really-of his planned garment construction that he passed off to one of the assistants to begin preparing the patterns with patternmaking software.

Tarrant had never enjoyed that sort of virtual design, always preferring to work with his hands and judge with his eyes. However, if these were truly going to be mass-market products it would be better to see from the outset what would need to be done to create the best possible quality clothes rather than creating one-offs for Alice and leaving it to the patternmakers to adulterate his designs as they saw fit after the fact. That was the usual way of things, and one for which Tarrant had developed a high level of scorn. He still had his doubts as to the potential of the finished products, but if this was going to happen, he wanted to give it his best effort.

The empty space was making him jittery, so Tarrant pulled a few designs at random from his sketchbook and sent them with another assistant to be copied and hung up. They had high quality scanners and printers at their disposal, so just for fun he had them enlarge the one he'd colored in of Alice standing in the pinafore and blue dress to put up on the glaringly white wall. It would be something to compare with the finished product.

Tarrant was in the middle of the tedious process of submitting fabric requests when he received a text from Alice.

[She's here]

That was all it said, but Tarrant shoved his notebook at the lackey who'd been assisting him and ran off down the hall without a word.

-o-o-o-

Alice was still having her makeup finished when her mother walked through the door. The makeup artist, Ernesto, was someone Alice had worked with before on several occasions, and he raised his eyebrow at the tension that suddenly filled Alice when her mother walked into the studio at Absolem's side.

"Trouble with mummy dearest?" he queried in a low voice.

"You have no idea," Alice murmured back, even as she quickly texted Tarrant.

"Is it about your new boyfriend?" Ernesto asked in the same de sotto voice.

Alice raised a delicate eyebrow.

Ernesto laughed at her, a deep chuckle that she had heard some other models describe as too sexy for words. Ernesto was very popular with female models, as he seemed to at least appreciate the girls he worked with on some level other than blank canvasses as most of the other makeup artists (male or female) did. Whether or not he also appreciated men was neither here nor there, but Alice also liked Ernesto. Mostly because he answered her many and varied questions without getting angry. Still, she hadn't thought he would notice anything personal about her. She'd been surprised that he realized Yelena was her mother, but she was shocked that he'd made such an (astute) assumption about Tarrant. After all they'd only walked to the door of the studio together. There had been no touches and only a vague "Bye" spoken.

"It's all over the building since he called Larry to see what time you were supposed to be in this morning. You know what a gossip he is."

Alice hadn't actually, but now added gossip to a list of Larry's negative qualities that she had observed. Nor had she stopped to wonder how Tarrant knew when she was to arrive. He must have called Larry yesterday before he'd even broached the subject with her. Hmm. Was that thoughtful or high-handed?

"And your mother certainly didn't pick out that outfit you're wearing. He made it, didn't he?" Ernesto asked eagerly.

Even Alice wasn't oblivious enough to watch Tarrant at work in the evening and in the morning find the same colors and fabrics resolved into clothing waiting for her to wear without being clued in. At least not twice in a row. Embarrassingly it had taken a day for her to realize what was happening.

Yesterday she'd marvelled that these clothes that happened to be lying around the house had fit her so well and had darkly wondered if they'd belonged to some other girl he'd brought home before her. So it had come as much as a relief as an embarrassment when the tunic she'd been admiring in his workroom the previous evening turned up on a hanger on the drying rack with a tag saying WEAR ME in case she was oblivious as she actually was. Alice shook her head at her own foolishness.

Ernesto clucked and smoothed over the eye makeup he was finishing.

Alice found her voice and answered, "Yes. The whole outfit. Do you like it?"

He nodded excitedly. "Even the trousers? Wow. I'd heard he could do more than hats, that at uni he'd won the couture prize in their annual show every year he attended, but I'd never seen anything but the hats until now. It's much better suited to you than what you usually turn up in, that's for certain."

Alice looked at him askance. Usually her mother dressed her for shoots, though for less important events she was often left to come in whatever she happened to stumble into that morning. She hadn't thought anyone would notice. Still, she couldn't help but agree with Ernesto's assessment.

"Anyway, good luck to you. He's a bit odd, by all accounts, but also a bit nice, huh? And you're hardly the typical girl we get through here yourself."

Alice looked up at Ernesto from the chair, and realized that this could be the last time she ever saw him. If the doctor was right, another month would see her out of the game. Even though she could see her mother out of the corner of her eye, lying in wait, Alice touched his arm and smiled at him sincerely.

"Thank you, Ernesto. I know I've never been the easiest girl at shoots, but you've always been kind. I appreciate it. And good luck to you too."

She ignored his questioning glance and stood with a little nod. With that, she turned and prepared to meet the dragon.

And she would have, except on her way to close the few yards between them, she was waylaid by the photographer's assistant, recognizable by the light meter around his neck and reflector in one hand. He seized her wrist loosely. Then Alice really looked at him and he saw he was even more so for despite the fact of his much less outlandish attire it was Chessur! Chessur in jeans and a horizontally striped pink and purple polo shirt. Alice's eyes grew wide, and Chessur winked at her.

"Not yet, I think, my dear," he murmured. More loudly he said, "The photographer wants to get started with a few solo shots in here while the other girls finish getting ready for the roof shots."

Alice saw her mother's eyes narrow as she was hurried off to the other side of the room by Chessur. He really did seem to work for the photographer as she had earlier guessed, running about at the older man's every bark and growl. Bernard Grabes was well known enough for the name to mean something even to Alice, and she sighed that she should be getting solo shots from him just at the closure of her career. This was the sort of opportunity her mother had been coveting all along. More than one superstar had been launched through his efforts. Oh well, such was the whim of fate or the push and pull of karma or whatever one wanted to think.

Alice was quickly shepherded over to be dressed, and was surprised to recognize a copy of the top that Tarrant had altered for her at the show on the rack. It was obviously a copy, since that one had been black and this one was a warm creamy-yellow color. She put that on along with one of Absolem's flowing long printed skirts. Her straightened hair was in a complicated bun and though she had expected one, no hat was forthcoming.

She turned toward the photographer's assessing gaze.

"I've been told," he started, "that you can look happy. Joyous, contented, fulfilled, yet not like an idiot. I'd like to see what you can do."

Alice looked at him oddly. She'd never heard of herself being described as any of those things in a professional capacity and come to think of it not in a personal one either, at least, not for years. And after the week she'd had, and the things she'd learned about her mother's at best careless disregard for Alice's health, wasn't it ironic that he'd ask for this and not tortured angst?

Just then, the door to the studio opened and Tarrant stepped in, visibly trying not to rush though his dishevelment indicated he'd run down the stairs as soon as she'd texted him. Alice smiled.

"Yes, like that," said the photographer, seemingly oblivious or uncaring as to the source of her expression.

And come to think of it, perhaps this was the perfect week for him to ask for happiness. For when else in the course of the past six years had she experienced such perfect pleasure and comfort than with Tarrant and his friends? She'd been welcomed into their lives and their home with little fuss, but much respect and care. And this mad wonderful man was the cause.

The photographer recaptured her attention and got to work, but Alice's thoughts stayed on Tarrant, allowing her to get the expressions the photographer wanted. The other girls were prepared, and Alice went up to the roof with them to finish the shoot, unaware that she was leaving Tarrant down in the studio with Yelena and Absolem.

Tarrant and Yelena had eyed one another warily as the shoot progressed, but once the room emptied the charged silence became unbearable. Absolem rose from where he'd been sitting by Yelena, walked a little ways toward the door and lit a cigarette. The small man was dressed in his usual dark clothes-today a navy suit with a navy shirt and a perfectly matched ascot.

"Everyone's gone, so you may as well sort it out. I'll be staying as an impartial witness." Absolem managed to sound as though the tense situation was boring him to tears.

"Really," started Tarrant, not wanting to air Alice's medical business (though he still did not know the specifics of it) in front of Absolem, "there's no need—"

"Shush, boy. Your temper is legendary, second only to your father's. Your uncle made it clear that you were not to be underestimated."

Yelena looked shocked and gritted her teeth as this sunk in. Tarrant, annoyed, protested, addressing Absolem rather than Yelena.

"I've done absolutely nothing wrong in this case. This woman whom you seem to know well, is guilty of child abuse on several counts. She's had Alice out of school working since she was fourteen years old to keep herself and her elder daughter well-heeled, a charge which alone would have her brought up in court. However, that pales in comparison to unknowingly dosing her with a prescription drug to keep her modeling."

Yelena looked shocked. "I don't know what Alice told you, Mr. Hayes, but this is a completely unfounded accusation. Alice ran off rashly without hearing any of the real story—"

"Unfounded?" Tarrant could not believe the gall of this woman. He wanted to reserve judgement, but if she insisted on blatantly lying this would not be easy. "My housemate, a medical professional, questioned Alice about her poor diet and discovered a fishy-sounding 'vitamin' was being administered to her daily. It was after that that Alice was encouraged to find the bottle and learned that you had perpetrated prescription fraud for six years, under the very nose of a medical student no less, or was your elder daughter complicit? I can't imagine applying for her license will go very smoothly now."

"How dare you threaten Margaret! You have no idea what those girls have been through. No idea! Do you think I wanted to see my youngest daughter put through the ringer for all this time? This is the only way her future can be secure!"

Absolem's sleepy eyes had widened during this last exchange. "My dear, is this true? Have you been giving Alice something illegal? You might want to stop talking now and speak to your solicitor instead."

This interjection went unnoticed by Tarrant, who continued on, becoming more and more incensed. "So I'm to believe that you were forced to give your younger daughter prescription drugs for six years and farm her out as an underage model while neither you nor your elder daughter sought gainful employment despite both being the legal adults in the situation? That's exploitation, Madam, and the drug fraud is flagrant abuse. And you dare to claim this was selflessly done for Alice's benefit?"

"Of course if is. This is the only way she'll ever get what's rightfully hers, if your interference doesn't ruin the whole thing! I'm sure Alice was easy prey, a weak young girl with no experience to shield her, but if you care about her at all you need to leave her alone or Alice's future will be ruined as irrevocably as her childhood."

Tarrant was starting to get angry, though his temper wasn't quite lost. His voice became quieter, and his accent crept into his tense speech. "You'd like tae turn the blame onto me, then, and put Alice in the role of victim? If she's sheltered, you know it's down t' you and your selfish manipulation of her loyalty. Whatever plans you have for her, Alice was devastated by your betrayal. She needs help, and I am determined to give her whatever she needs."

"You interfering fool! You have no idea what your 'help' may have cost her."

At this point a throat was cleared, and Tarrant looked over to see that Absolem had failed or plain abdicated his role of lookout, for Alice stood at the door, and the entire crew of the shoot with Chessur at the fore were attempting to peer over her shoulder at the dramatic scene being played out among Alice's mother and Vetvier designers old and new.

Alice entered the studio, firmly closing the door behind her with a sharp click.

"Tarrant, I didn't call you down here to defend me to my mother, and certainly not to get into a shouting match," Alice said mildly. She'd rather hoped that having Tarrant there would have dissuaded her mother from making a scene with her. Alice turned to Absolem reproachfully.

"And you let them get into such a personal discussion at a photo shoot?"

Absolem looked shocked at being called out so plainly. He spluttered, "I thought the issue was purely the Hatter whisking you away from your mother, something that might be solved by getting to know one another a little better."

Alice looked skeptical. "I don't think that would have worked in any case, but now as you see there's much more to it than that.

She turned to Tarrant. "As you have now undoubtedly heard, there's a bit more to it than I've told you. Indeed," her eyes flicked to her mother's for the first time, "there's more than I'd ever suspected. However, this is neither the time nor place to be discussing such personal issues."

She took a breath and squarely faced Yelena. "Mother. You may send me my schedule for the next few weeks. I have gone off the Riftorelin though, so presumably I will only be able to fulfill so many obligations before my body is no longer suitable. Still, I'll go until I'm sent home, and you may keep the wages as you've always done. Hopefully this will provide enough of a grace period for you and Margaret to decide what you'd like to do next. Though I am being monitored closely by a physician and nutritionist to ensure my recovery and will not jeopardise that by starving myself to suit you. I suppose my biology will dictate the duration of this last portion of my career."

Absolem started at this. "You can't say you're quitting now, Alice. Not just now that you've finally gotten good."

"It's not so much a matter of quitting, sir, as of accepting the body I have been given. If this is not my natural state, then I intend to discover what is."

The venerable designer turned to Tarrant. "What will you do then? Alice was to be the star and inspiration for your summer line. If she's not going to headline, will you choose another?"

Tarrant slowly shook his head. "Alice is the reason for my designs, so it would be foolish to continue without her. I am still not clear on the whys and hows of the situation, but whatever size and shape Alice results, my designs will still be for her. If that is an unacceptable gamble for you, say so now and I will happily go back to Bembury as long as Alice is safe and free."

Absolem looked shrewdly at each of the three others in turn.

"I must be getting bored in my old age," he said dryly. "But I will accept this risk. Proceed with the collection. You may keep Alice as discussed."

Alice turned to Tarrant, eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

He smiled slightly. "My proposal to do the Vetvier summer line was always contingent on having you under contract to show it. I told you. I make the clothes for you, not the other way about. Anything else is illogical."

Yelena looked a little ill. A week ago a contract like this would have been her wildest dream. Something that would give Alice the caché to catapult her back into their old social circles. Now, the dream was horribly twisted, and Alice's dewey eyes toward the Hatter spelled bad news for all that Yelena had worked for.

"You can't, Alice. How can you just give up on everything your father worked for?" she choked out.

Alice turned, fury suddenly blazing bright. "Do you really think Daddy would have approved of your plan?" she spat. "Selling me to that woman for the benefits of his money back?"

Yelena turned sad. "Apparently neither of us knew your father as well as we thought, Alice."

Instead of taking the same subdued turn, this declaration further angered Alice. She took two steps toward her mother then thought better of it, halting abruptly.

"There is nothing you can say that will ever ever make me believe those dreadful lies. I don't care if the whole world believes them. I don't care if you do. I won't, and someday I am going to prove I'm right," she vowed.

Yelena continued to look at her sadly, the last remnants of their world crashing in.

"Tarrant," Alice said, turning toward him, "I'd like to go home."

"Of course, Alice," he practically lisped in his worry, "whatever you need."

Alice turned, the tilt of her head more convincingly royal than any score of monarchs, and accompanied him out of the building.

A/N

Wow. This tipped the scale at over 7000 words. Probably more than necessary, but there's also a whole lot to deal with. How was it for you?