Alice Through the Glass Darkly: Decisive Devices

By Hargrove Perth

Emma Alice Peterson lives a very sensible life in turn of the century New York procuring rare objects for her employer, Bradley Livingston. When Emma is placed on a steamer bound for London, in search of the famed looking glass and original manuscript of Alice in Wonderland, she discovers that the novel was not a nonsensical fairy-tale at all. She is confronted by a strange man named Mordecai Hatter who appears obsessed with the lot at the auction house, a man who then later offers his business card after losing the auction with a cryptic warning. Emma's life quickly spirals out of control as her existence is put in danger shortly after the auction ends, and she discovers Mordecai Hatter might just be her only hope of survival, and that her entire life might have been an elaborate lie to save the place once known as Wonderland from a perilous end. Filled with steam powered horses, strange machines, and magic, Emma Alice discovers the Shadowlands, the place once known as Wonderland, a haunting shell of what so many knew and loved as her destiny slowly unfolds. Will Emma regain her memories before the Baroness Red and the Shadowcaster destroy what remains of Wonderland? Can she return to the life once known as Alice?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hargrove Perth
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201065867

Hargrove Perth

A perpetual night-owl and lover of all things paranormal related, Hargrove spends a great deal of time researching the larger than life characters of history to formulate characters unforgettable and strangely adored. She writes horror, dark romance, fantasy, and paranormal in the Adult, New Adult, and YA categories. When asked why paranormal, she said, "I'm the girl who cries at the end when Frankenstein is misunderstood, who wants Dracula to keep Mina in his arms forever... I see the humanity in them that others cannot." 2014 Author of the Year by Double Decker Books in Historical/Horror Dark Days Remy Broulette. DDBA 2015 Author of the Year YA Fantasy Miss Crabtree's School for Unnaturals, DDBA 2015 Nominee YA Fantasy Chronicle:Dark Sea Triad, and DDBA 2015 Author of the Year Horror (comedic) Coven Wives.

Book preview

Chapter One

New York

The thought of traveling by steamer across the Atlantic to London was frightening, if not terrifying, for Emma Alice Peterson. She had been in the employment of Sir Bradley Livingston for some time now, and despite his attempts to reassure her of her placement within his small, unusual company, she still had her doubts. That is not to say they were completely unfounded as she was a woman holding a career in a world generally attended to by men, but there was an odd and somewhat quirkiness to her employer that enabled Emma to believe he did have the utmost faith in her.

The world is changing Miss Peterson. Soon you shall find that women will no longer be mere housewives but will stand among the greatest professionals of the world.

His words, though filled with genuine sentiment, were empty to Emma. She could not see the world through rose colored glasses as her employer did. To her, New York was nothing more than a filthy slime filled cesspool where the fortunate abused the unfortunate in order to further their own success.

Part of her fears concerning the journey to England was that she would not want to return to her modest apartment above Sir Livingston’s business. Or perhaps that merely being home for even the smallest amount of time would cause her to grow so smitten with her old life she would never leave. Either way she knew it would be no easy task.

Her life, the life she had left behind, was not unlike many other children who had become wards of the Monarchy; incorrigibles as they were once known, it was the only term she had been known by until that fateful day.  She became a servant in the Livingston household at the tender age of seven. Lady Livingston had hand selected her and with their family; she had remained a near daughter to Lady Livingston until Bradley announced he was leaving London to make his fortune in New York, and he was taking Emma with him.

The life Emma led was never oppressive or controlled like the stories she had heard the older children tell at the orphanage. She was given her own room which stood across the hall from Bradley’s. Emma never lived in the downstairs level of the manor where the butlers, maids, and laundress lived. Despite her affluent stature in the house, Emma did have chores. None of them were too lofty or even what could be considered servant’s work. Instead, the expectation held by Mrs. Livingston was that she would learn to sew, learn to do fine embroidery, and would tend Bradley during her free hours when not in the company of her Mistress.

Each day she retired, Emma scrutinized her room to see what had been changed in her absence. It was a forced habit from living at the orphanage where no item truly belonged to any one individual.

Her room was a soft shade of peach, adorned with dolls of the highest caliber, and her closet was nearly overflowing with dresses. It was the dream of every little girl to become a princess which was exactly what had happened to Emma Peterson. The truth would not be known to her until many years later; she had been selected to be a companion to the young Master Bradley because Mrs. Livingston could not bear another child.

The staunch and depressing gloom of the orphanage was still deeply entrenched in her memory as the years passed at the Livingston Estate. There were times when the smell of mold and mildew permeated her senses with the same vigor it had during her tenure at the orphanage. On these days her sadness was deeply visible, and it was on such days as those she often found comfort in the words of young Bradley Livingston. Bradley had always looked after her in one fashion or another from the moment she arrived at the Estate. Being separated by only two years in age, he nearly regarded her as the younger sister he never had. Emma’s loyalty to him was unmistakable. When he requested she accompany him to New York she never hesitated even though she really did not wish to leave Lady Nora, the new life she had grown to love, and the lush green expanse of the estate.

Emma Alice, do not be sad, no tears, for ours is a life of adventure, he said to her on more than occasion, that I cannot accomplish without you.

As she packed her trunk for her two week travels, Emma could not help but smile as she thought about how kind Lady Nora and Sir Robert had been so very kind to her. She prayed the business she was about to embark on would not keep her occupied for the entirety of her trip. She did wish to visit them and let them know firsthand the life Bradley had made for himself and she along with him.

A knock at the door stirred her thoughts. Come in, she said, turning toward the door.

Nearly packed, I see.

Yes, Emma said with hesitation.

I know this is not a journey you wish to take, Emma, but the client for this procurement of Mr. Lewis’ items of interest will provide us enough money to purchase a nice home and a parcel of property in Lennox Hill where we can begin a life together.

A life together, Emma mocked, thinking Bradley was teasing her."

He reached for her hand, turning Emma toward him. Yes, a life together. Surely you didn’t believe I would just bring you to New York because I wanted you to continue working for me as a servant, Emma. I love you. Perhaps I was naïve to assume you understood how deeply my feelings for you run. I hoped here, you would become my wife.

"Don’t be preposterous, Bradley.

Emma, this isn’t England. Here, I am not a Lord of an Estate. I am just a businessman making a living in this grand city with the most beautiful woman in all of New York at my side. I have always loved you, Emma, from the first day you arrived at Livingston Downs. I always assumed you understood my intentions when the announcement was made we were to leave for America.

Her heart soared as Bradley continued to relate the life he hoped to build in New York with her as his wife, and the business they would own together as equal partners.

She stared at him, how his brown curls framed his face, how the suit coat he wore fit his broad shoulders perfectly. He was handsome by any standard of the day, and Emma had secretly loved him all her life.

He pulled an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket and placed it on the corner of the bed before he left the room. Emma admired the cream vellum paper and the raised words ‘you are cordially invited’.

She turned the envelope in her hand, breaking the lavender colored wax sigil on the back and removed the invitation. The invitation itself was blank but tucked inside was a handwritten note from Bradley which read, ‘should you accept, a formal announcement and gala will be yours’.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed and laid the blank invitation at her side. What he proposed was not possible had they remained in London. Marriages were nothing more than a business deal. A woman such as herself marrying above her stature would certainly have been considered an upstart. She did not have a generous dowry; in fact, Emma Peterson had no dowry at all to offer. There were no financial aspects of the marriage to discuss since she literally had nothing of a monetary nature to offer. Yet Emma knew as she stared the blank paper she had the one item so many upscale women in London did not have when they were married. Emma Peterson truly loved Bradley and would not have to wait for her heart to grow tolerably fond of Bradley.

Emma stood and walked to the window overlooking the street below. There would be no welcoming by the family as was customary in England. She would not have to send invitations to announce the courtship and host cousins, uncles, aunts and such whose eyes would be upon her for approval of the marriage, which of course, would never happen. Though Mrs. Livingston considered Emma to be the same as a member of her family, the remaining relatives did not. Emma was a servant. Nothing more. Nothing less.

New York was so different than London. She sometimes wondered how they could be part of the same century. Emma returned to packing her clothing for the trip and secretly smiled. She could not imagine in her youth that her life would take a turn such as this.

Sir Livingston did not use his title after arriving in New York. From the moment they stepped off the steamer, Emma was instructed to refer to him as Mr. Livingston. He did not want his affluence to gain him notoriety or fame upon arrival in his new home. The first purchase he made was a storefront on Fifth Avenue.

He converted the upper levels of the building into living quarters; one for Emma and one for himself. From that moment forward, she was no longer his servant; Emma Alice Peterson was his partner, employee, and closest confidant. He found a niche in procuring unusual items, items one might call abnatural,  for the elite members of New York society. Emma was well received and her services were highly sought after. Her life had been one of privilege, luxury, and glorious freedoms in New York, yet it had not fulfilled her as she thought it would.

With the last of her clothing safely tucked inside the trunk, Emma waited patiently for the driver to arrive and transport her to the loading station at the port. The hour passed with her barely noticing. Soon, Emma found herself standing in the New York Port Authority Station with Mr. Livingston discussing the terms of her assignment.

The auction is set to begin at one o’clock sharp. I would recommend arriving at least an hour early. I have already made the arrangements for all your travel to and from the boarding house to the auction house. I also gave them explicit instructions to accommodate your needs, whatever they might be, and informed them you are acting on my behalf. You should not expect any trouble.

Of course.

And do not hesitate to send a wire or reverse the charges of a Trans-Atlantic call. The costs will be covered.

Yes, sir, Emma replied with her eyes lowered, not wanting to look Bradley in the eye for fear she would burst into tears and create an emotionally languid scene on the boarding dock.

Goodbye, my sweet Emma. I shall miss you while you are gone, he whispered, kissing her on the cheek before turning away from her.

Emma looked up to see he had vanished into the swarm of well-wishers who were frantically waving to loved ones already on board.

Good-bye Bradley.

The steward escorted Emma to her quarters on the ship as soon as she stepped onto the deck. No expense had been spared. She had one of the finest arrangements available on the main level. Her meals were brought directly to her room. Each day the Steward escorted her wherever she wished to go so she would never be alone. It made her smile to think Bradley cared so deeply for her safety traveling abroad and without escort.

Upon her arrival in England, Emma was instructed by the ship’s Steward to wait for the arrival of a personal driver to take her to London. He stood waiting for her on the dock when she arrived.

Miss Emma, the man called out waving frantically to gain her attention.

Emma smiled and quickly waved to him. The port was a frantic swarm of men who were saying goodbye to their loved ones before leaving for war.

My name is Henry Goodson. I shall be your escort during your travels. I work for the Livingston family.

Thank you Henry. Will it be a long journey to London? Emma asked as she removed her gloves.

Several hours I am afraid. There are many roadblocks to clear with the preparations for war beginning. I do hope you have all your travel papers in order. Travel by ferry up the Thames is forbidden at this time so overland we must travel.

Of course.

Let me take you to the motorcar, and I will arrange for one of the Stewards to bring along your luggage.

I brought only a travel trunk, Mr. Goodson.

The fog rolled in off the port with a dense thickness that nearly obscured their view as they walked. Emma had forgotten how lovely the fog could be since living in New York. She waited patiently in the car as Mr. Goodson returned with her trunk.

The conversation was pleasant but not of any importance. Soon Emma was fast asleep in the back seat of the Henry Ford steam-steam-carcar as it motored its way across the countryside. Once they arrived at the London Ambassador Hotel, Mr. Goodson paused to shake her gently.

We have arrived Miss Emma. I will check us in at the front desk.

Emma followed behind Henry as he led her inside. Once he had their room numbers, they were quickly on their way to the elevator and onto their suites.

I asked for a wake-up call at precisely 6 a.m., Miss Emma. I do hope that is not too early. Mr. Livingston asked that I have you at the sale of Mr. Carroll’s estate early to meet with the curator. He has made arrangements for you to view some of the items in private.

Thank you Henry. I will see you in the morning.

Her room was quite lavish, which somehow did not surprise her. Bradley never spared any expense when it came to her comfort regardless of where she traveled. Emma opened her trunk and placed the envelope that her employer sent with her under the mattress before removing her suit for the next day. The suite had a nearly panoramic view of London as she twisted the crank to open the window and allow the fresh air to permeate the room.

How I have missed you, Emma whispered. How I have longed to come home.

She stood at the window for nearly an hour watching the glow of the gaslight lamps below her. All of London was on high alert. It seemed the entire world felt the same, except America. To Emma, it nearly appeared that America felt they were exempt from the war and what might happen even though the rest of the world knew that couldn’t be further from the truth.

With her head hung and filled with worry, Emma turned