Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 84

84. The End of the Adventure

“You’ve made a very wise decision,” Professor Charles Dodgson said, patting Grace’s arm. Having attended Mary Montague’s funeral a month earlier and returned to Grentabridge, he had now come to Lydon again upon receiving Grace’s letter a few days ago.

In her letter, Grace had expressed her desire to return to Grentabridge. Since Professor Dodgson had always been skeptical about Grace’s debut in society, his response was enthusiastic.

“Let’s just spend our days solving math problems in Grentabridge. I’ll only assign you formulas you’re more than capable of proving and solving.”

At his playful suggestion, Grace widened her eyes and laughed. As eccentric as he was—typical of someone obsessed with mathematics—he understood her heart better than anyone else.

Although Lord Anthony Montague was reluctant, he ultimately respected Grace’s decision. However, he didn’t entirely rule out the possibility of the adoption being finalized in the future, leaving the door open should she change her mind.

Grace was determined not to dismiss Lady Mary Montague’s wishes lightly. She promised to visit Lydon three or four times a year to spend time with Anthony Montague.

She didn’t mention the lost ring or Viscount Lovelace. Losing such a significant item had kept her awake at night, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She also didn’t want to stir up unnecessary trouble.

As Grace packed her belongings, she took one last look at her room in the Montague mansion. The bed draped with thin white fabric on all sides, the small and charming tea table, the brightly painted upright piano, and the wall clock adorned with pink roses.

If she had a noblewoman friend, this would surely be the kind of room she’d expect her to have. When Grace first arrived here, she had described herself as someone who had fallen into Winderland through a series of peculiar events.

In this Wonderland led by Mary Montague’s hand, Grace often felt her confidence shrink and her hesitation grow, not because of tea, cake, or mushrooms but because of her own Cheshire Cat, Richard Spencer.

The cat who appeared and vanished without warning had thoroughly unsettled her. Each time Richard showed up unannounced and left just as suddenly, Grace reduced her self-assurance and increased her lingering regrets. She lowered her expectations and deepened her wounds.

Every adventure has its end. The task of rounding out her uneven, jagged emotions and smoothing them over fell entirely to Grace.

Now, even within her cave, she resolved not to look at the shadows cast on the walls. Doing so would only spark curiosity about the outside world, the Wonderland she had left behind. Thinking of a world she had stepped away from was foolish.

Still, she wanted to say goodbye one last time. She felt she should.

Having made up her mind, Grace visited the room where Charles Dodgson was staying and spoke.

“U-Uncle, I have somewhere to go briefly.”

“At this late hour?”

Charles had prepared for bed over an hour ago and looked at her questioningly.

“I-I need to say goodbye before I leave. I-I won’t see them again.”

Grace’s voice carried a note of urgency. Charles Dodgson, looking at her with his drowsy pink eyes, reluctantly nodded.

***

“I-it was a short time, but I enjoyed it. T-thank you.”

Grace forced a smile as she looked at the sniffling children. She cleared her throat several times, trying to loosen the knot in her throat before speaking.

Her time teaching had been brief—just a couple of months—hardly a long period. She had started her first class during the summer, when the heat filled the slums with stench and bugs. Now, the cool autumn winds from Scotlin’s northern Brighton Isle were blowing south.

Stepping down from the teacher’s platform, Grace held the hand of the youngest child in the class, Lily. The child’s small, worn blue dress was far too thin for the crisp autumn night air.

Lily’s skin had darkened since they first met, and her fingers, though belonging to someone not yet ten years old, were worn smooth. Still, the girl’s eyes shone with clarity, a stark contrast to her difficult circumstances.

“I can count to 100 now,” Lily said proudly, interrupting her sniffles.

From 10 to 100, the numbers she had learned reflected the growing world she could now see and understand.

“I can do addition and subtraction. Multiplication and division, too.”

“But you mess up multiplication and division all the time.”

At someone’s teasing, Lily made a sullen face. She was still the recipient of both affection and teasing from her older sisters.

“I-it’s okay to make mistakes. If you k-keep trying, you’ll get used to it, and once you’re used to it, it will become your own,” Grace comforted her gently, patting the child’s head. Lily’s face immediately brightened, and she smiled shyly.

Theresius Wilford had once insisted that only minimal education should be given to the impoverished. He believed they should know numbers but not be able to calculate, read letters but not write them.

But Grace didn’t listen to him. That was the first decision she made independently after arriving in Wonderland.

The workers who learned basic arithmetic began calculating their wages and protesting against deceptive practices. Once they could write, they started expressing their own opinions.

As they gradually learned more and shared their knowledge, the world began to change in some way. Perhaps such changes could prevent the faces of children from darkening with despair, their jaws decaying. Maybe it could stop young women’s faces from turning sallow, their bodies rendered incapable of bearing children before they even married.

Grace Gurton lacked the ability to overturn the system all at once. But she believed without a doubt that if hope gathered, dreams connected, and wishes combined, the lives of the daughters and granddaughters of these students would become a little better, a little more prosperous.

“This is a gift.”

Lily, blushing, took out a small box. Grace smiled even more brightly as she accepted it.

“I received this instead of my wages last winter.”

The child handed over a box of matches. In Dockland’s factories, it was common for employers to exploit laborers without paying fair compensation. Often, they would pass off products made at the factory as substitutes for wages.

Children had no power to fight against such unjust treatment. Grace imagined Lily trudging into a dingy home in a dark alleyway, clutching matches instead of money for bread.

“These are leftover matches I couldn’t sell, but please take them. This is the nicest thing I have to give you.”

The nights in Dockland were incredibly dark. A few steps away from the charity school, the alleyways became pitch black.

The people in the slums couldn’t afford candles. Their lives were worlds apart from Chelsea, Kensington, and Mayfair, where homes glowed warmly with golden and amber light.

Thus, the matches Lily had received as her wages were of little use to Dockland’s residents. For those who stretched their meager resources to buy stale bread and soak it in contaminated water, heat for cooking was a luxury.

Lighting a stove, igniting a candle wick, warming an oven, or lighting the end of a cigar were practices confined to affluent neighborhoods or at least middle-class areas.

Perhaps Lily, wearing a thin dress unfit for the freezing winter, had trudged barefoot to sell matches in those neighborhoods.

Walking between houses glowing with golden light, what had she thought? Did she envy the families enjoying lavish meals inside? Had she been able to sell her matches that day?

Grace didn’t intend to pity Lily recklessly. Even in grim and sorrowful stories, one could find purity and goodness. Virtue could survive and ultimately triumph over hardship. Maybe, like the boy protagonist in novels Grace admired, Lily might someday find happiness.

Behind noble and beautiful doors lies the face of a lonely and fearful fool, someone who, unable to properly express emotions, becomes arrogant, self-righteous, and ill-tempered.

Behind poor and shabby doors lies the face of a pure and kind child—cold, hungry, and tired, yet diligent in her studies, learning to count to 100, and mastering addition and subtraction.

When you open the door, Wonderland unfolds. In Wonderland, you can see what lies behind the hidden doors. Exploring and observing the carvings on their reverse sides was a marvelous adventure.

And now, the marvelous adventure had ended. Grace Gurton, bid farewell by her students, left Wonderland and closed the door behind her. She returned to her warm and cozy cave.