Uncommon Nonsense

Chapter 1: In which there is a deathly illness, an offer of marriage and a tea party

"More tea Tinker?" Sighing, Tinker wearily nodded, and a splash of discoloured water sloshed into a cracked teacup. "You know, after all these years, I still haven't learned that betting against you is stupider than going swimming with hungry sharks." His golden eyes flicked down to the frilly… thing his friend had dressed him in. The girl he was grumbling to only smirkedas she turned to her other victim. "And what about you Chess?" She asked, a dangerous smile on her lips. Chess's eyes flicked to Tinker, then back to the girl. "Of course," He said smoothly, a grin stretching from ear to ear.

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"Oh Alice. Was it really too much to hope that you would return from Africa a lady?" The tired woman pressed her lips into a line, her deep frown lines denting her forehead. Holding a cup of tea in her pale hands, Alice perched on the end of an ornate chair, unsure of how to reply. Her mother shook her head, and sighed. Leaning up from her pillows, she glanced at Alice's legs. "Still no stockings… and no corset. Seven years, and you haven't changed a whit. And I…" Alice's mother trailed off, her eyes clouded. "Well, my age has caught up to me, I presume." A racking cough shook her, her frail body rocking back and forth from the force of it. Alice bit her lip. "Probably won't recover… …severe pneumonia" The doctor's words swooped around in her head like vicious crows.

Her mother's eyes snapped back to reality, now eying Alice's hair disapprovingly. "A lady your age wears her hair up Alice." She croaked, as a new wave of coughs shook her like a doll. Aice's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I like the way my hair is mother."

"That doesn't matter, it's not proper."

"I don't care what's proper!"

"Do not care Alice, and you should-"

"Why?"

"Because you'd be married to a Lord if you had."

Alice sighed. Even after all these years her mother was still chastising her about Hamish. Even though she thought that she would have been happier without Hamish and his poor digestion, nobody else did. Her mother leaned back, her eyes cloudy.

"I only wanted you to be a lady Alice."

Alice looked down at the now cold tea in her cup. "I can't believe I'm fighting with my sick mother about properness," she murmured to it. The tea didn't reply, but her mother did. "Can not Alice." She said sternly, arms folded. Alice's dark eyes turned to her mother, with a freezing look that could have turned her to stone. "Properness, mother, is the reason why you are lying in this bed." She said slowly.

Her mother had been taking "a stately stroll in the park" and a bout of rain had poured down suddenly, drenching her to the bone. Her mother had not been dressed warmly, or even had an umbrella. "I do not carry such ugly things." And by the time she'd arrived home, the relentless rain had become hail and she was blue from hypothermia.

Alice blinked back tears. While her mother was killing herself by being proper, she had been closing the last of a trading deal in Africa. It was only this morning she'd arrived breathless to find a stone-faced doctor with a droopy moustache, telling her in a dull monotone that her mother was dying. Alice's eyes shimmered with tears. She'd come home to tell her mother good news… Her mother's papery hand grasped at Alice's smooth fingers. Gently, as if the hand was a paper bird, Alice squeezed back, feeling the burn of her mother's fever.

"Don't cry my darling," Alice's mother said softly, lifting a hand to dab at Alice's cheek. "When your father passed away, I always knew we'd be together again one day. And now, I can tell him about our beautiful daughter… How proud he must be of you," she whispered, trailing off. Her hand moved to stroke some of Alice's long dark gold hair. "Such pretty hair… such a pretty girl." She smiled, stretching her gaunt face. She leaned back, placing the now cold cup of tea on the bedside table. Alice let go of her mother's hand, watching it drift back down to her mother's side. She looks so small… Alice thought, it was as though her mother was drowning in feathery pillows and thick blankets. Quietly Alice started to stand, when her mother turned her head to look straight at her. 'Tell that joke of a doctor he can go. I wish to die in peace, without ten leeches sucking the blood out of my arms." Alice nodded quietly, then walked slowly to the door, slipped out and closed it with a dull thud.

Wiping away a tear, a loud "Ahem" caused her to look up startled. "So very sorry for you loss, Miss Kingsley," A short, rattish man blinked his sharp, beady eyes at her. Alice straightened up, her eyes narrowed. "She isn't dead yet, Mr Cotton, and I can assure you at she wouldn't have given a penny to you, of all people." Mr Cotton was Alice's whiny, greedy cousin, who had always given Alice a slimy feeling in her gut since they were children. His greasy smile spread across his lips like the plague. "I beg to differ. As you are still unmarried… I am you mother's only heir. Therefore, my dearest cousin, it is you who won't receive even a penny. But of course… you could always marry me, as an alternative to the poorhouse." He licked his lips, Alice shuddered.

Mr Wilbert Cotton was a short, skinny man with black greasy hair and the sort of smile that made children cry. Alice, now at 27 couldn't be more different. Long wavy curls fell to her shoulder blades, framing her pale face and dark eyes. Unlike "proper" ladies, her dark gold locks were never pulled back into a bun, much to uptight upperclass London's distaste. She never wore corsets and stockings, and the only jewellery she ever wore was a thin gold chain with a rabbit carved from moonstone, that rested in the hollow of her creamy neck. Compared to the overdressed, blindingly glittery peacocks everyone else her age was, Alice was a rare jewel. Unfortunately, it would appear that this jewel would be on it's way to the pawnshop.

Mr Cotton pulled down his jacket, and sniffed. "I wouldn't be as picky as you, Alice, if I had your meagre options. The very fact that you soon won't even have a roof over your head will indeed drive away potential suitors. And that is disregarding your other flaws." Mr Cotton adjusted his top hat, farewelled her stiffly, then marched out the door as if a rod had been shoved up his backside. As son as he left, Alice sank into an armchair, chewing her upper lip. To an extent, her cousin was right. Even though she had returned from the expedition successfully, having negotiated an exclusive trade for the Kingsley & Co Shipping Company, it would be months before she got any profit from the deal as the silent partner. After closing the deal, they had barely broken even. And even if she had all the money and jewels in England, by law she couldn't buy her own house…

Alice rapped her fingers on an elaborately carved coffee table beside her. Nothings impossible, she thought. After all, I believe in six impossible things before breakfast…so surely there must be a way to solve this one? Sighing, Alice stood and trudged into her mother's room, mind working furiously away to figure out exactly how she could keep out of the poorhouse, and out of being married to that sewer rat Wilbert.

Her mother smiled at her dreamily, for the past few hours Alice had noticed her mother had drifted in and out of reality… or, Otherworld's version of reality anyway. Right now, her mother seemed pretty out of it.

"Darling… I saw the strangest thing the other day when I was walking home in the rain. There was this odd girl, sitting on the corner having a teaparty with two animals! I think she must have been mad poor thing, she was dressed in the most frightful rags… but she had this strange cat that was huge Alice, and it grinned like nothing you've ever seen! It was quite dreadful really…"Alice stirred, eying her mother carefully. Her eyes were wide with fever now, and she seemed like she was looking at something far far away instead of her worried daughter right beside her. But… had her mother just described the Cheshire Cat? "Where did you see them mother?" Alice asked. "On Harbour way, right next to the park. I quite imagine she I still there, she looked like she was a street child, with a stolen tea party set no doubt. I should go report her to the constable!" Alice's mother started to lever herself up on her arms, when Alice pushed her back down gently. "I'll tell the constable, you get better." Alice said firmly.

Slipping on her coat, Alice never questioned whether she should go look for someone described when her mother was completely delirious. Bending down to tie her shoe, she straightened up, a glint in her eye that meant only one thing. Six impossible things before breakfast, she thought as she marched out the door.