Mirror, Mirror

Alice stood in front of her full-length, oval mirror. It was her nineteenth birthday and she should have been pleased with the woman staring back at her: at how far she'd come since her "imaginative" 9-year-old self. At least that's what her mother said. And her sister. And her tutors. Her father was mercifully quiet about how "sensible" she had become.

No, Alice was not pleased. While her mother, sister and the others were downstairs cooing at her guests, at how accomplished she was, and how composed her countenance was, her father stood silently outside the door of his sad, lonely daughter's room. She knew he was there. He was always there when she had to face particularly horrible family gatherings. And her birthdays were always the worst.

The soft knock at her door was not impatient, but more like a warning: almost time for her appearance. She cast one last look over her reflection. Quiet sapphire eyes rimmed by black lashes gazed blankly at her from beneath a curtain of very straight, dark brown hair that faded to auburn at the tips. Her mouth was set in a very unmoving line. No emotion there either. Her sapphire dress with black velvet ties and trimmings looked slightly flattering, but muted by her unmoving body. The long black boots with the leather toes peeking out beneath the dress hem were good for the cold November evening air, and a long black coat with a high, almost Asian collar was draped across her dresser-top. "Might as well be a wooden puppet," she mused. "Though I'd be more entertaining carved out of wood at the moment..."

The clock on the wall behind her ticked ominously. The chess table reflected in the mirror from the center of her room, half played through in one of the solitary games Alice amused herself with. A motley of books—some worn through much use, some fresh-bought, and many somewhere in between—were stacked haphazardly beside her bed. Next to the books, on her nightstand was set a small, dainty tea service. And over the mantle for her fireplace was a painting so dark in color that one could only scarce make out that it was a tea party. Some smoldering ember of a living girl lit up in Alice's eyes as she settled her gaze on its reflection in the mirror, but the ember soon faded.

She reached down to lovingly stroke Dinah, her very aged gray cat, and grabbed the coat from her dresser-top. Only last year she would have taken Dinah—an understanding and undemanding dinner companion—down the stairs with her to make the tedious social niceties fly by quicker. But one could scarcely handle the old cat anymore, so frail was she getting. Alice had kept the mischievous feline with her since she was three, and Dinah only a kitten. She cast her companion a sad, crooked smile as she opened her door , stepping out into the hall and towards her waiting father.

Patrick Hervey steeled himself to look into the ever-distant face of his younger daughter. Just as it did every time, her heavy expression made his heart break a little more. The only balm he had for the wound was that she only showed him this face. Everyone else was treated to a proper smile, proper remarks, proper laughter, proper sympathies. At least she could share this much with him, even if she couldn't share her sadness with him. It had been six years since they both had lost the light of their lives. William. But while Alice lost her best friend and little brother, Patrick didn't know how to tell Alice that he'd lost not only his son, but most of his daughter.

And Alice didn't know how to tell her father—the last person that loved her—that she had lost not only her little brother, but in him the only person who ever believed her.

They said nothing as they descended the stairs together.

A/N: Good morning! Afternoon! Well, it was morning when I started. This is my first shot at publishing anything for anyone else to see. I've got a couple of chapters ready, and I promise to put them up as quickly as I can. Please, please do r&r. Criticism makes the aspiring writer's world go 'round. Constructive criticism makes my ego shut the heck up long enough to fix things for your enjoyment. Toodles! ---Snapps