Page 8 of The White Queen

Page List


Font:  

Resentful of my parents’ scolding, a desire for fairness inspired me to do something truly naughty. After a day of sulking at my mistreatment, I’d stolen into my nanny’s room and scampered off with the fancy dress I was no longer going to be allowed to wear, and hid it in my toy box. Before the first guests might arrive, my nanny turned the key and locked me away for the night. No one would look in upon me when more fun could be had elsewhere. So, while the music was jolly downstairs, and the servants were distracted with their own festivities, I pulled glimmering blue silk over my mottled shoulders, arms like a monkey to work all the buttons, so I might spin around and pretend I was a part of it.

Intensely careful, I had made sure not to crease the silk or so much as smudge the lace. I had even wound my hair up as Mama did, pins haphazard and curls falling prettily.

Even with the large crack through my mirror, I could see the fractured image of a beautiful girl—a miniature lady with ruffles and bows, golden ringlets, and sapphire eyes.

The party, my party, I’d have alone. I knew the simple steps of a waltz, I could imagine a prince, a castle, garlands and flowers around me. I could dance in my dress, talk to a string of suitors, and know that everyone loved me.

Distracted in my games, I played too late. I was still in the gown when the grandfather clock ticked, and the noise shook my walls.

Oh no...

My every intention had been to take off the pretty dress and get into bed before the clock sounded, but I’d grown lost in pretend, frolicking around my room as princesses must dance around their castles.

I’d been given less than three ticks before the rabbit turned his head and my visitor appeared.

“How comely you look, sweet Alice. What is the occasion?”

Relief it was not the evil boys was short lived, for the dust on my playmate… if he were to so much as stand close, would spoil the dress.

“There was a Christmas party tonight.” I sighed, certain I had made a foolish decision by taking the gown. My parents would never let me out of my room now. “I was to go, but... Mama changed her mind.”

Eyes glowing yellow, smirk earnest, the Hatter tapped his fingers upon his chin. “Turn around. Let me get a good look at you.”

One pirouette, then I smiled, fluttered my eyelashes as my mother had taught me, and gave a curtsey. “Do you really think I look fine?”

“Almost grown up, Alice.”

The compliment set my cheeks to aching, my grin was so large. “I was to have ice-cream and dance with the sons of my father’s friends. They are downstairs making merry...” my smile faded, and again I felt utterly left out. “I’m never going to get to grow up.”

Spreading his hands before him, the Hatter offered an extended bow, going to far as to whip off his hat and flourish it to the side. “May I have this dance?”

Who would ever know that I’d had my fun? Settling my fingers into his cold palm, for a split second, I did not care if he smeared dust on my dress. At least he was kind to me.

He looked at our conjoined hands and seemed unreservedly taken. Speaking as if in wonder, he muttered, “It’s the first time you’ve ever touched my hand. Now yours is mine to hold when I will.”

Before I could reply, he yanked me forward and set an arm to my waist. Flailing our arms in a ridiculous fashion as he hummed bars of silly music and had me laughing so hard, I failed to notice his other long-fingered palm had dirtied the velvet sash at my waist. We caterwauled, hopped to and fro, and masqueraded as king and queen of our very own wonderland. Once I was breathless and dizzy he spun us to the table. The Hatter plopped down in the low chair so quickly that I fell after him.

He caught me before my face might meet the floor, and propped my flailing person at once upon his boney knee.

Yellow teeth on display his grin was so large, his dusty voice rumbled low and scratchy. “Now look at this, sweet Alice. First your hand, and now you sit upon my lap. For that you must have a treat.”

Jostled by the repeated twitch of his thigh, I thought of the rare times my father had bounced me on his knee. I was too big for such baby games. Ladies sat in their own chair; they were prim and proper, not oddly balanced on a bumping leg.

Flustered, I fanned at my face and moved to stand. The Hatter took my hand, pulling me right back down to his lap so hard I omphed.

He chatted, ignoring my squirming, and reached for something past me on the table. “You mentioned ice cream? Do you want something sweet on your tongue?”

It was then I finally noticed the state of what had once been a beautiful gown. Smeared and dusty, the blue had grown dull. It was a mess. “You’re getting dirt all over my dress, sir.”

Tutting, the Hatter jostled me once more. “I could undo the buttons at your back. Take it off if you think it more important than I.”

His suggestion wasn’t a terrible idea, but I didn’t want his dirty hands, the caked grit under his fingernails black, making the satin covered buttons as foul as his shirt. “What do you do to get so dirty each day?”

Pulling a face, the Hatter, pouted. “These are my finest garments.”

“So they are.” I giggled. “But as dusty as the grave.”

Wagging a finger in my face, he teased. “We have to put the bodies somewhere... if I left them out, everything would start to smell.”


Tags: Addison Cain Dark