Fic: I Am Not What I Am (1/?)
Title: I Am Not What I Am
Author: Ariadne Quinn
Characters/Pairing: Mostly Alice and...a version of Hatter, of sorts. A teeny, tiny bit of Charlie and Jack. And a smidge of my own character, Cassandra Jane.
Rating: PG
Summary: Two people, two very different points of view, one country ball in 18th century England. (Imagine what would happen if Jane Austen, Lewis Carroll, and NIck Welling got together for tea and wrote a story. This would be it..)
Warning: Hatter's name will either make you giggle like a schoolgirl or moan with despair.
Disclaimer: I actually OWN Cassandra Jane...so ha ha to you! She is mine! As for the rest...yeah. Not so much. Not at all, actually...
Word Count: One thousand, seven hundred and five...so far
*For the “AU” prompt of the Winter Wonderland Quarterly Challenge. View my board HERE.
I Am Not What I Am - Chapter 1
“Alice.”
The sound of her name brought Alice back into the moment. She smiled as she turned to greet her friend. “Cassandra…where have you been?”
The other woman leaned forward to kiss Alice on the cheek. “Mother was fussing and fretting about her hair…it was beginning to look as if we would never get here.” She glanced around the room, taking it all in. “Have I missed anything?”
“Several dances,” Alice sighed. “Nothing of consequence.”
Cassandra eyed her suspiciously. “Have you not danced yet?”
“No one has asked me…with gentleman once again so scarce, I very much doubt I will.”
“I believe that depends on whether or not he is in attendance.”
Alice felt a burn in her cheeks. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Do you not?”
She knew that Cassandra meant well, and was merely poking fun at her recent crush on a new acquaintance, but her words only served to vex Alice. “Why don’t I get us some punch…”
“Alice…wait…”
“I’ll only be a minute,” she promised, disappearing into the crowd.
Safely anonymous among a sea of couples, Alice’s thoughts returned to the matter she had been pondering before Cassandra’s interruption. She was worried about her mother - the nearly 10 years she spent working as a seamstress were finally catching up with her. Although she denied it, Alice suspected that an excess of late nights sewing by candlelight were taking their toll on her eyesight; she didn’t know how much longer she could last in her profession. Without her wages, Alice wasn’t sure if they’d be able to afford her cousin’s relatively low rent. And, despite the fact that she herself had recently found employment, she understood that hers was a fickle business, one that could not be relied upon as a steady source of income.
She cursed the day her father had abandoned them - without a son, his estate had fallen into the hands of a distant relative, who had no problem confiscating all their possessions. Alice knew she should be thankful that he had been willing to rent them a small apartment, but she thought it vulgar to charge them money for it…especially with jobs so difficult for women to come by.
Alice had reached the punchbowl, and was in the process of filling a second goblet when she was addressed. “Miss Hamilton, what a delight it is to see you again.”
“Mr. Knight, the pleasure is all mine.”
Mr. Knight was a man of advanced years - not rich, but polite and kind, if a bit odd. Alice had once introduced him to her mother in hopes they might hit it off…but it appeared that Mrs. Hamilton was determined to live out the rest of her days alone.
“How fares your mother?”
“She is well, sir. Thank you for asking.”
“Is she here?” he inquired, searching the room.
“I’m sorry to inform you that she is not.”
His face fell a bit, but he bore his disappointment well. “She is wiser than me - leaving the festivities to those young enough to enjoy them fully.” He paused, thoughtful, then spoke again. “I’ll infringe upon your time no longer. I’m sure you have many suitors impatiently waiting to request your hand. Good night, Miss Hamilton.” He bowed slightly, then walked away.
On her way back to Cassandra, she spotted another gentleman across the room. He was standing alone, leaning on the mantle, his expression that of immense boredom. She knew without being told that he would not dance. Why he bothered to come at all was a mystery to her.
When she reached her friend, she discretely pointed him out and shared with her an amusing anecdote that she had nearly forgotten - at the last ball, which she had also spent partnerless, Mr. Knight had suggested that this particular man ask her to dance…he had responded rudely, making a vulgar comment about her lack of beauty and grace, not knowing that she had been within earshot. Cassandra had missed the previous ball because of a cold, and the episode would have gone forever untold if that same man hadn’t caught Alice’s eye as she crossed the room.
At the time it happened, Alice had felt slighted…but now, in Cassandra’s company, the humor of the situation was not lost on her. The two friends giggled about it as they sipped their punch, unaware the he was watching them.
Theophilus Carter sighed to himself while maintaining his impeccably projected façade. He knew Alice and her friend were laughing at him, and could guess the particulars of their conversation. He remembered the incident well - it had pained him to speak ill of her, and he had felt worse still when he turned around and caught a glimpse of her face before she merged into assembly of townspeople. She had definitely heard him. And his words wounded her.
If she only knew…he would ask her to dance every dance with him if he had a choice in the matter. It just so happened that he did not. He was on a special assignment for the queen, acting as a kind of bodyguard to her knavish son Jack while he explored the world of the “common folk.” He held no fondness for mother or son, but accepted his assignment with a kind of secret excitement. Unbeknownst to the royal family, he was a member of an underground movement dedicated to overthrowing the monarchy. The fact that the queen trusted him to perform such a task was incredibly important…not just to him, but to the resistance as a whole.
And so, traveling incognito - posing as wealthy friends - the two had traveled up and down the country searching for…whatever it was the princeling was after. Theophilus was not privy to that particular bit of information.
On the way, Jack had caught the attention of many a young lady…all of them turned to mush by his chiseled good looks and easy manners. He showered them with attention, flirting and courting as he saw fit. And he engaged in these activities even though he had a lovely fiancée awaiting his return home.
Theophilus did not approve, but it was not his place to comment on the prince’s affairs.
It was only recently, after the two had come across Miss Hamilton, that his objections had grown more…intense. The lady in question had caught both their fancies, though Theophilus kept this particular tidbit to himself. He was thrilled when Jack ordered him to learn all he could about the girl, thus affording him less time around the prince, and more time near her.
He found out about her father’s mysterious disappearance and how it had forced her mother to work for a living…he got bits and pieces here and there, carefully fitting them together to weave a more complete picture for the prince. But there was one scrap of intel that Theophilus didn’t share with the soon-to-be-ruler. And that was Alice’s profession. He told himself this was because what she was doing was illegal, and could very well cost Alice her head…but, to a certain extent, he did it because he wanted part of her all to himself.
Alice, it seemed, had taken up martial arts, an activity forbidden to members of the gentler sex. She did so because she had feared for her and her mother’s safety…without a man to protect them, she decided to take matters into her own hands. To undertake such training in spite of the risks was impressive…but the remarkable thing was how quickly and quietly the news had spread in certain circles. Fathers began to pay her to teach their daughters how to defend themselves…covert lessons in undisclosed locations soon commenced. In fact, even the rich were beginning to offer her large sums to tutor their daughters in the art of hand-to-hand combat.
It had taken some very fast talking and some very expensive items, but Theophilus managed to bribe his way to the scene of such a lesson. He had kept his distance, hidden among the trees, but he had a clear view of the goings on. Tales of her skill had not been exaggerated. Nor were the descriptions of her patience towards her students, many of whom had been taught from an early age that exercise was something a proper woman should not partake in.
It was her grace, though, that he admired most…the fluidity of her movement that touched him as he observed her.
Which made his offhand remark the worst kind of blasphemy.
“Is she here?”
Theophilus moved his head ever so slightly in the direction of the voice that had spoken. “Do you doubt my word?”
“Of course not…but perhaps she fell ill, or…”
“She’s over there with her friend. A Miss Jane.”
Jack practically bounded across the room, eager to finally dance with her, the loveliest of creatures. Theophilus watched him introduce himself to the ladies, noting with a touch of jealousy the excitement that washed over Alice’s face as he addressed her. He’d seen that look on many of Jack’s conquests…he had no doubt that she was smitten.
As was he.
Jack escorted her onto the dance floor as the next song began. She curtsied, he bowed, and they fell easily into the choreographed moves of this dance or another. Theophilus could study her openly now, under the guise of watching his “friend.” Her short-sleeved dress was a pale blue, most likely made by her mother, with a white ribbon tied under her bust. It was hard to tell from this vantage point, but there appeared to be some kind of faint white design delicately embroidered on it. She wore white elbow length gloves and sported sprigs of baby’s breath in her auburn hair, which was curled and pulled back, aside from the dark ringlets framing her face.
She was beautiful.
His expression remained stoic as he fingered the brim of his hat, passing it slowly from hand to hand.
Theophilus came to a decision then. He didn’t know how he would manage it without tipping off - or ticking off - the prince, but he would find a way…he would somehow come up with a reason convincing enough…to dance with Miss Hamilton.
He was determined to win her heart.
CHAPTER 2
Author: Ariadne Quinn
Characters/Pairing: Mostly Alice and...a version of Hatter, of sorts. A teeny, tiny bit of Charlie and Jack. And a smidge of my own character, Cassandra Jane.
Rating: PG
Summary: Two people, two very different points of view, one country ball in 18th century England. (Imagine what would happen if Jane Austen, Lewis Carroll, and NIck Welling got together for tea and wrote a story. This would be it..)
Warning: Hatter's name will either make you giggle like a schoolgirl or moan with despair.
Disclaimer: I actually OWN Cassandra Jane...so ha ha to you! She is mine! As for the rest...yeah. Not so much. Not at all, actually...
Word Count: One thousand, seven hundred and five...so far
*For the “AU” prompt of the Winter Wonderland Quarterly Challenge. View my board HERE.
I Am Not What I Am - Chapter 1
“Alice.”
The sound of her name brought Alice back into the moment. She smiled as she turned to greet her friend. “Cassandra…where have you been?”
The other woman leaned forward to kiss Alice on the cheek. “Mother was fussing and fretting about her hair…it was beginning to look as if we would never get here.” She glanced around the room, taking it all in. “Have I missed anything?”
“Several dances,” Alice sighed. “Nothing of consequence.”
Cassandra eyed her suspiciously. “Have you not danced yet?”
“No one has asked me…with gentleman once again so scarce, I very much doubt I will.”
“I believe that depends on whether or not he is in attendance.”
Alice felt a burn in her cheeks. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Do you not?”
She knew that Cassandra meant well, and was merely poking fun at her recent crush on a new acquaintance, but her words only served to vex Alice. “Why don’t I get us some punch…”
“Alice…wait…”
“I’ll only be a minute,” she promised, disappearing into the crowd.
Safely anonymous among a sea of couples, Alice’s thoughts returned to the matter she had been pondering before Cassandra’s interruption. She was worried about her mother - the nearly 10 years she spent working as a seamstress were finally catching up with her. Although she denied it, Alice suspected that an excess of late nights sewing by candlelight were taking their toll on her eyesight; she didn’t know how much longer she could last in her profession. Without her wages, Alice wasn’t sure if they’d be able to afford her cousin’s relatively low rent. And, despite the fact that she herself had recently found employment, she understood that hers was a fickle business, one that could not be relied upon as a steady source of income.
She cursed the day her father had abandoned them - without a son, his estate had fallen into the hands of a distant relative, who had no problem confiscating all their possessions. Alice knew she should be thankful that he had been willing to rent them a small apartment, but she thought it vulgar to charge them money for it…especially with jobs so difficult for women to come by.
Alice had reached the punchbowl, and was in the process of filling a second goblet when she was addressed. “Miss Hamilton, what a delight it is to see you again.”
“Mr. Knight, the pleasure is all mine.”
Mr. Knight was a man of advanced years - not rich, but polite and kind, if a bit odd. Alice had once introduced him to her mother in hopes they might hit it off…but it appeared that Mrs. Hamilton was determined to live out the rest of her days alone.
“How fares your mother?”
“She is well, sir. Thank you for asking.”
“Is she here?” he inquired, searching the room.
“I’m sorry to inform you that she is not.”
His face fell a bit, but he bore his disappointment well. “She is wiser than me - leaving the festivities to those young enough to enjoy them fully.” He paused, thoughtful, then spoke again. “I’ll infringe upon your time no longer. I’m sure you have many suitors impatiently waiting to request your hand. Good night, Miss Hamilton.” He bowed slightly, then walked away.
On her way back to Cassandra, she spotted another gentleman across the room. He was standing alone, leaning on the mantle, his expression that of immense boredom. She knew without being told that he would not dance. Why he bothered to come at all was a mystery to her.
When she reached her friend, she discretely pointed him out and shared with her an amusing anecdote that she had nearly forgotten - at the last ball, which she had also spent partnerless, Mr. Knight had suggested that this particular man ask her to dance…he had responded rudely, making a vulgar comment about her lack of beauty and grace, not knowing that she had been within earshot. Cassandra had missed the previous ball because of a cold, and the episode would have gone forever untold if that same man hadn’t caught Alice’s eye as she crossed the room.
At the time it happened, Alice had felt slighted…but now, in Cassandra’s company, the humor of the situation was not lost on her. The two friends giggled about it as they sipped their punch, unaware the he was watching them.
Theophilus Carter sighed to himself while maintaining his impeccably projected façade. He knew Alice and her friend were laughing at him, and could guess the particulars of their conversation. He remembered the incident well - it had pained him to speak ill of her, and he had felt worse still when he turned around and caught a glimpse of her face before she merged into assembly of townspeople. She had definitely heard him. And his words wounded her.
If she only knew…he would ask her to dance every dance with him if he had a choice in the matter. It just so happened that he did not. He was on a special assignment for the queen, acting as a kind of bodyguard to her knavish son Jack while he explored the world of the “common folk.” He held no fondness for mother or son, but accepted his assignment with a kind of secret excitement. Unbeknownst to the royal family, he was a member of an underground movement dedicated to overthrowing the monarchy. The fact that the queen trusted him to perform such a task was incredibly important…not just to him, but to the resistance as a whole.
And so, traveling incognito - posing as wealthy friends - the two had traveled up and down the country searching for…whatever it was the princeling was after. Theophilus was not privy to that particular bit of information.
On the way, Jack had caught the attention of many a young lady…all of them turned to mush by his chiseled good looks and easy manners. He showered them with attention, flirting and courting as he saw fit. And he engaged in these activities even though he had a lovely fiancée awaiting his return home.
Theophilus did not approve, but it was not his place to comment on the prince’s affairs.
It was only recently, after the two had come across Miss Hamilton, that his objections had grown more…intense. The lady in question had caught both their fancies, though Theophilus kept this particular tidbit to himself. He was thrilled when Jack ordered him to learn all he could about the girl, thus affording him less time around the prince, and more time near her.
He found out about her father’s mysterious disappearance and how it had forced her mother to work for a living…he got bits and pieces here and there, carefully fitting them together to weave a more complete picture for the prince. But there was one scrap of intel that Theophilus didn’t share with the soon-to-be-ruler. And that was Alice’s profession. He told himself this was because what she was doing was illegal, and could very well cost Alice her head…but, to a certain extent, he did it because he wanted part of her all to himself.
Alice, it seemed, had taken up martial arts, an activity forbidden to members of the gentler sex. She did so because she had feared for her and her mother’s safety…without a man to protect them, she decided to take matters into her own hands. To undertake such training in spite of the risks was impressive…but the remarkable thing was how quickly and quietly the news had spread in certain circles. Fathers began to pay her to teach their daughters how to defend themselves…covert lessons in undisclosed locations soon commenced. In fact, even the rich were beginning to offer her large sums to tutor their daughters in the art of hand-to-hand combat.
It had taken some very fast talking and some very expensive items, but Theophilus managed to bribe his way to the scene of such a lesson. He had kept his distance, hidden among the trees, but he had a clear view of the goings on. Tales of her skill had not been exaggerated. Nor were the descriptions of her patience towards her students, many of whom had been taught from an early age that exercise was something a proper woman should not partake in.
It was her grace, though, that he admired most…the fluidity of her movement that touched him as he observed her.
Which made his offhand remark the worst kind of blasphemy.
“Is she here?”
Theophilus moved his head ever so slightly in the direction of the voice that had spoken. “Do you doubt my word?”
“Of course not…but perhaps she fell ill, or…”
“She’s over there with her friend. A Miss Jane.”
Jack practically bounded across the room, eager to finally dance with her, the loveliest of creatures. Theophilus watched him introduce himself to the ladies, noting with a touch of jealousy the excitement that washed over Alice’s face as he addressed her. He’d seen that look on many of Jack’s conquests…he had no doubt that she was smitten.
As was he.
Jack escorted her onto the dance floor as the next song began. She curtsied, he bowed, and they fell easily into the choreographed moves of this dance or another. Theophilus could study her openly now, under the guise of watching his “friend.” Her short-sleeved dress was a pale blue, most likely made by her mother, with a white ribbon tied under her bust. It was hard to tell from this vantage point, but there appeared to be some kind of faint white design delicately embroidered on it. She wore white elbow length gloves and sported sprigs of baby’s breath in her auburn hair, which was curled and pulled back, aside from the dark ringlets framing her face.
She was beautiful.
His expression remained stoic as he fingered the brim of his hat, passing it slowly from hand to hand.
Theophilus came to a decision then. He didn’t know how he would manage it without tipping off - or ticking off - the prince, but he would find a way…he would somehow come up with a reason convincing enough…to dance with Miss Hamilton.
He was determined to win her heart.
CHAPTER 2