Ahoy there! Phew, this chapter was a tough little cookie. I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it... but I managed! For some odd reason, I have a certain affinity for Madam Gazelle. She might be old and withered and a crone, but she's good at what she does.
Enjoy! And, alas! The plot moves!
Chapter 4
A Dress for Your Occasion
The thirty-two girls who attended the Marionette School for Proper Young Ladies lined up in their gala finest on the curbside, thirteen black carriages awaiting them with sober footmen and midnight mares. The majority of the young women twittered like finches in peer groups, giggling and wiping smudges of mascara from each other's faces with lily-white handkerchiefs.
Alice watched from the doorway, and fisted her hands. Unlike her colorful classmates, she still wore her drab school uniform that was in bad need of an iron. The gray pleats were skewed, and her white blouse looked like it had been wadded up for days behind a toilet. (Her blouse would not have been in such utter disrepair if Bert hadn't insisted on gardening that morning.) It embarrassed her to think that she'd see her parents for the first time in three months looking like a street urchin.
"It's not like I can afford anything else," she muttered bitterly. The only other good dress she owned was black, and only worn to funerals. She had never worn it before.
"Do you not have a single acceptable dress to wear?" snapped the shrill grindstone voice of Madam Gazelle. She surfaced from the darkness of the house into the doorway, her pointed chin set in disapproval. She examined Alice with hawk-like eyes. "If you are to wear that, you will not ride in my carriages."
"I have nothing else to wear, Madam," Alice curtsied politely, her head bent so the crone could not see her bottom lip wobble.
Madam Gazelle gave an indignant sniff. "Do you not sow?"
"I do."
"Own cloth?"
"A bit."
"Then why didn't you make yourself a dress? You've had ample time, Miss Pleasance. Many of the girls here did. Miss Hummington is one of the many impeccable examples!" She nodded to a particular young woman who laughed with a flock of water-colored girls surrounding her. (She was only one who managed to sew her own, actually.) Her dress was the color of moonlight, and it looked quite odd against the ravishing pastel blues and greens that surrounded her. It shimmered too much, as if there were bubbles trapped inside the thin thread. Her hair was curled into ringlets, her face powdered to perfection. She was easily the most beautiful girl at the Marionette's School for Proper Young Ladies, and reminded Alice of a mouse. Often, Lorane Hummington was seen sipping tea out of fascinating Japanese cups alone in the tea room. As if she could feel Alice's envy, Lorane turned her gaze to the natty blonde.
Well, the dormouse overdid it a bit.
At least she's not drunk.
Oh good heavens! She only drinks tea!
It's what she puts in the tea, dear fellow.
Lorane Hummington smiled and gave a brief nod. Astonished, Alice gave a quick curtsy in return. Lorane had never paid much attention to Alice. In fact, no one did.
Madam Gazelle beamed with approval. "Ah, such a ravishing young woman! It would do you good if you learned from her, Miss Pleasance."
"Yes Madam," she muttered in return.
The old crone grabbed her sharply by the elbow and escorted her down the steps onto the pavement. Instinctively, most of the girls took a step away, and the giggles turned into a lower murmur. Alice's ears felt hot.
"Ladies!" Madam Gazelle called. Every primped and proper face turned to their headmistress, their chins raised high and their lush pink lips set into a perfect line. They looked like marionettes hanging on invisible strings. Frightfully, Alice shrank into herself. "Miss Alice Pleasance does not have a proper dress to wear. This is troublesome."
Not a single face shifted.
"Would any of you proper young ladies care to lend her a dress?"
Hesitation shuffled through the crowd. A horse neighed, and trotted impatiently in place.
"If not," Madam Gazelle continued, "she will not be allowed to go."
Alice gasped. "Oh no, Madam! Please, my parents expect me there! Surely if they knew that I had to dress for the occasion they would have sent--"
"Anyone?" the crone ignored her, and dug her sharp nails into Alice's elbow to quiet her.
A stoic disapproval swept through the crowd. It finally occurred to Alice that none of them would help, not even her roommate Erin who she had been good to. Helplessly, she turned to Erin with pleading eyes, but Erin didn't meet them, and instead stared at her hands clutching an off-white purse. Alice looked about with wild, wet eyes, and realized that not a single girl met her gaze. A churn of hopelessness filled her stomach.
It reminded her of black rain.
Poor Alice.
Poor foolish Alice.
No, it was a new voice, poor foolish us.
"I will lend her a dress."
Alice's tear-filled eyes searched the crowd.
Lorane Hummington lifted her silvery dress and stepped out from the crowd. She gave her a reassuring smile. "I will lend her a dress," she repeated.
Alice could feel Madam Gazelle's disappointment through the nails that bit into her elbow. She let go, and sniffed indignantly. "Then do hurry, Miss Hummington. The carriage leaves in ten minutes. With or without you both."
"Thank you, Madam," Lorane curtsied and took Alice by the wrist, and hurried inside. She pulled Alice along three flights of stairs to a beautiful floral room with mirrors covering the largest wall, and a delicate Japanese china set placed as a centerpiece for the room. It was very red and oriental in nature, as was the wardrobe that Lorane searched through. She pulled out a dark navy dress and presented it to Alice. "It's not my best, but it should fit you."
Alice took the dress in awe. It was plain, with a single satin ribbon and lace on the sleeves and neckline, but much more beautiful than anything Alice owned. When it moved, it rustled and whooshed like the ocean. "Why?" she asked breathlessly.
Lorane gave a tale-tell smile. "Because I can."
The dress was an almost perfect fit, and it felt like satin against her skin. Alice beamed a beautifully white smile to her newfound friend, who seemed to glow with pleasure.
She's beautiful, isn't she?
Yes. There was a considerate pause. Yes, she is.
They arrived back at the carriages just as Madame Gazelle told her chauffer to pull away, and they only mildly winced when she glared ferocious daggers over half-moon spectacles. Lorane moved up to sit beside Alice in the last carriage, crammed with three other girls with low social standing (in ratty hand-me-down dresses with yellowing lace and unpolished shoes).
"Did you see the Madame?" Lorane giggled. When she scrunched her nose and laughed, she did look like a mouse.
"I daresay you'll be on her naughty list because of it…" Alice replied unsurely. She didn't want to get her new friend in any trouble. Especially if it would be because of her.
"Oh, nonsense!" the bruentte scoffed and flourishingly waved her hand. "Who gives a rat's ass about what the Madame thinks? -- excuse my language. She is quite the crone, and I doubt she will be getting much of anything from me at Christmastime."
That made Alice giggle too. "Not even coals?"
"To roast us poor girls? Heavens no! She has enough fun with her whip and cane!"
"Lorane!"
"It's true!"
Low murmuring twitters rushed across the slowly rocking carriage. The three girls on the other side huddled together in low whispers, their beady eyes gleaming dark and disapproving.
Alice gave them a level look and buried her lips into Lorane's ear to whisper, "Please watch what you say, Lorane. The Madam's got ears everywhere! She'll hear you!"
"Please. She isn't that liked, is she?" She raised her chin and gave the three opposite girls a disapproving look. "Even by those girls?"
For a moment, the angel-headed young woman was silent. Considerate. At first glance, the trio of lanky girls snuggled opposite of them looked like moles, shy and longing for dark warm places. But when she narrowed her eyes -- when she looked deep, deep down, more into her own eyeballs than into the picture of three moles sunken into the leather upholstery, colors began to dance. Things began to happen -- thoughts and ideas and schemes and colors. So many bright and wonderful colors that she had lost, almost forgotten, after the golden afternoons.
She saw it for only a blink. A second that stole thoughts into her head and hid them in the darkest recesses of her eyes.
Hatter… did she…
Yes, my good friend. She did.
Alice darted her eyes to Lorane again, and with a Cheshire smile said, "Especially those girls. They've got her ears in their pockets, her eyes in their hands, and her heart in their shoes. Can't you hear it? Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump."
"Maybe if we're lucky it'll stop beating."
"Oh it has! Them walking keeps it going."
Lorane gave a flittering laugh. "You are quite imaginative, Alice Pleasance."
In return she smiled, and remembered the fleeting beams of color burned into the corners of her eyes.
Alice made a friend! Or has she had friends all along?
Continue or No?
