Chapter Two: Curiouser and Curiouser

"Just relax," the Cheshire Cat purred—and then Theodore felt something soft and warm envelop his lips.

Frozen and shivering as the heat flooded his body, he could do nothing but stand there in shock, clinging to the warm body of the man kissing him as he felt a gentle tongue nudge against his mouth. The Cat's hand was threaded into Theodore's hair, making him terribly conscious of their difference in height, making him shudder, making his body ache. By the time the Cat pulled away, Theodore was dazed and his pulse was fluttery, and he couldn't look away.

"There," the Cat said quietly, a softer smile than his usual grin playing over his lips. "Was that so bad?"

Trembling, Theodore didn't know whether to reach for him or run.

"Do you want me to do it again?" the Cat whispered.

"Chesh..."

The smirk that flashed over the Cat's face was so dangerous—so tempting—

"I thought so," he purred, and then his lips were pressed against Theodore's again, forceful and passionate.

Theodore's eyes opened wide with shock—and suddenly he found himself staring at his own bedroom ceiling, gasping for breath, heart pounding in his ears and his body drenched with sweat. It had all been a dream.

Just a dream.

Slamming his face down into his pillow, Theodore let out a frustrated scream. Ever since he had felt the Cat's kiss, he just couldn't get it out of his head. He had dreamed about it every night in the week since that day, and he was losing rest because of it. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, either, so, despite the early morning hour, he dragged his tired body out of bed, pulling on a housecoat, and made his way downstairs to get himself some tea. Mary Ann would be in later to do some housework and make his evening meal, but he couldn't wait for then.

"Why did I let him talk me into that?" he muttered angrily as he bustled around the kitchen finding tea, teacup, saucer, teapot, sugar, cream, and teaspoon. "It's not as though he cares about me—or I care about him, for that matter! We've scarcely met—and he's caused no end of trouble! Now I'm having trouble sleeping, and the whole thing seems dreadfully awkward to me... oh, dear..."

"What seems dreadfully awkward?"

Yelping in shock, Theodore whirled around to find the Cheshire Cat draped across his kitchen table, which had definitely been empty when he had passed it a moment before. "You—but—what—what are you doing here?" he demanded when he had finally managed to stop gaping. "And get off my table!"

Unconcerned, the Cat swung himself to his feet, sauntering over to Theodore and leaning on the counter next to him. "I was bored, so I thought I'd drop by for a visit."

"A—a visit?" Theodore stuttered indignantly. "You can't just show up uninvited in people's houses whenever you please! Get out! My god, I'm not even dressed yet!"

"Oh, come on," said the Cat. "That's not a very polite way to treat a friend."

"Friend?" Theodore practically shrieked. "You're not my friend! Now get out!"

"All right, all right," the Cat said. "Relax. You seem particularly high-strung today. What's the bother?"

At that, Theodore froze. "That's none of your business," he said stiffly, turning his back and going back to his tea in a valiant attempt to ignore the Cat. It failed.

"Theo, come on—"

"My name is not Theo!"

"Theodore," the Cat said. "Come on. I didn't mean to cause you trouble—"

Theodore slammed his teacup down hard enough on his saucer that the tea slopped out of it, sending a spreading puddle of liquid dripping over the countertop. "Yes, well, you did!" he cried. "I can't sleep and I'm jumping at shadows and it's all because of you—now get out, before you make things worse!"

For a long while, there was silence. Theodore found himself hoping that the Cat had vanished again; however, that hope was dashed when he felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder. He stiffened, suddenly trembling, but made no move to get away.

"Theodore," the Cat said softly, "I'm sorry. Please, tell me. I'm trying to help."

The Rabbit's voice was shaking when he next spoke. "You've already helped enough. Ever since you kissed me—"

"Oh, that's what this is about," the Cat said. "If it really bothers you that much, why did you agree to it?"

"I—you—I just—what else was I supposed to do? You just sprung it on me out of nowhere—"

"All right! I get it. Look, Theo—"

"Theodore!"

"Theodore," the Cat sighed, "I didn't mean anything by it. It's hardly a cause for panic, and I didn't mean to trouble your sleeping—"

"Yes, well, you did," snapped Theodore, abruptly shrugging the Cat's hand off his shoulder. "Now, just—just go away, Cat. I don't want to deal with you right now."

The room was silent for a moment, and then the Cat leaned forward, soft breath tickling Theodore's ear. "I told you to call me Chesh... Theo."

"My name is Theodore!" the Rabbit yelled, whirling around to glare at him—but by the time he'd finished his sentence, the Cat was gone.

The next time he ran into the Cat, Theodore was making his way through the Tulgey Wood, nervously darting glances back and forth as he hurried along the path. Wary as he was, he was not expecting to be addressed—much less from above—and thus it came as a complete shock to him when an amused voice spoke from the tree he was passing under.

"You'd really do much better not to be out here, you know."

Theodore's reaction was, as usual for this sort of thing, rather spectacular. Letting out a shriek, he jumped several feet in the air, back-pedalling so quickly in his effort to get away from the source of his surprise that he ended up tumbling into the dirt. A soft laugh sounded as he searched desperately for his glasses, finding them and placing them back on his nose just in time to see the Cheshire Cat easily swinging himself down from a branch.

"Rather jumpy today, aren't you?" he observed casually, offering a hand to help Theodore stand. The Rabbit ignored him, scrambling to his feet and frantically brushing himself off as he snapped an answer.

"I am not! I'm just cautious," he protested, ensuring that his pocket watch was intact and rapidly adjusting his red bow tie. "It's only common sense! Wouldn't you be, walking through the Tulgey Wood?"

The Cat chuckled. "Not really—but then, I'm not you."

Theodore glared at him. "You knew very well what I meant!"

"Yeah, I did," the Cat said, amused. "And it lines up pretty neatly with what I said. You'd do better not to be out here."

"I have duties at the Palace of Hearts today."

"Still, better not to walk this way," the Cat advised, grinning. "You know why they call this forest the Tulgey Wood? It's after an old poem. They say there's a fearsome monster called the Jabberwock about in these woods."

"It's not like I have a choice!" Theodore snapped, trying to shoulder past him. The Cat stepped back, turning easily to keep pace with him.

"Certainly you do. Let me take you."

The White Rabbit turned to stare at him. "Let you take me? No thank you! I'd rather walk," he said, starting to move with extra purpose.

The Cat shrugged. "Well, at least you have a choice."

"As if that makes it any better," Theodore snorted. "How useful is a choice I won't take?"

"You can't fault me for providing what you asked for," the Cat said, a grin beginning to spread over his face.

"But it's a useless choice!"

"It's still a choice," the Cat said, chuckling.

Theodore shook his head, beginning to grow frustrated. "You're just being a bother, Cat!"

"How many times, Theo," the Cat inquired mildly, completely ignoring the rest of his remark, "do I have to tell you to call me Chesh?"

"As many times as I have to tell you to call me Theodore!" the Rabbit retorted hotly. The Cat sighed dramatically.

"What on earth do you want a long, troublesome name like that for? I don't insist that everyone call me the Cheshire Cat all the time, do I?"

Theodore just glared at him, irritated and unable to think up a response.

The Cat, never one to waste an opportunity, took his silence as an invitation to change the subject. "Are you sure you don't want me to take you to the Palace?"

"Not a chance," the Rabbit snapped.

"All right," the Cat said, shrugging, as he grabbed a nearby branch and swung himself up onto it. "If you'd rather walk through the Duchess's grounds, along the edge of the March Hare's property, and right past the Caterpillar's den, you be my guest—hope you don't get too badly hurt." And with that, he started to fade out.

Theodore, who had stopped short at the mention of the Duchess and was trembling by the time the Cat said "Caterpillar," was badly shaken by this sudden onslaught of coldness. Was it really a good idea to refuse his offer? The Cat may have been vexing, but at least Theodore knew he wouldn't hurt him—

"Wait!"

Abruptly popping back into existence as though he'd been expecting exactly that reaction, the Cat looked down at him, a wide grin stretching across his face. "Yes?"

"Well, I—it—I—m-maybe—it wouldn't hurt if—if you g-gave me a lift..."

Smiling, the Cat dropped back down in front of him, holding out his hand. Theodore hesitated.

"Come on, take it," the Cat sighed impatiently. "I can't take you anywhere if you won't touch me."

Reaching forward with some trepidation, the Rabbit carefully put his hand into the Cat's. Immediately, he felt his fingers enclosed in a strong grip, and a second later, Wonderland had softened and faded out and he found himself floating in empty space. Instinctively, he clutched tighter at the Cat's fingers, and distantly he felt a comforting squeeze back. Then reality returned with a shocking finality, and Theodore almost found himself stumbling on the front step of the Palace.

The Cat released his hand with a smug grin. "There you are. I just saved you almost an hour of walking and a dangerous trip through the Tulgey Wood. Aren't you glad you took my offer?"

"Y-yes," Theodore stammered, because, really, what else could he say? "Th-thank you."

Suddenly he felt his chin lifted gently by claw-tipped fingers. "Come now. You know what kind of thank-you I really want," the Cat purred.

The Rabbit's eyes grew wide. "Y-you—but—I—you never said—!" he protested, voice growing increasingly frantic. The Cat laughed.

"Theo, relax. I was just kidding."

Torn between relief, indignation, and anger, the White Rabbit found he could only sputter.

The Cat, however, wasn't paying attention. He was looking up at the Palace with the sort of mistrust one would normally expect to see directed at the most dangerous of prisons. "Are you sure you'll be all right in there?" he asked, his wary look settling on the tower Theodore knew to contain the Queen's bedroom. Distracted from his irritation by the familiar wave of half-suppressed panic, he only nodded.

Theodore was fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch; out of habit, he popped it open, checking the time. Half past nine. He was early. "I—I can handle it," he said, his voice very small. "Really."

The Cat turned his eyes on him; distaste was replaced by concern. "She's a dangerous woman, Theodore," he said softly.

"Sh-she'll be okay, today," Theodore said, looking down. "Her l-last—episode—was only two weeks ago. She's off in her own little dream world, other times."

"And the King? You trust that he won't hurt you?"

Theodore shook his head. "He's s-still... fixing... the soldiers she k-k-killed last time."

"Reanimating them, you mean," the Cat said disgustedly. Theodore ducked his head.

"I won't even s-see him. He l-leaves my instructions on his desk."

The Cat was silent for a moment, then sighed. "If you're sure...," he said, lifting a hand to brush the hair back from Theodore's forehead; the Rabbit shivered under his touch and flinched away.

"I—I'll be fine," he said. "Don't—don't worry about me."

The Cat gave a rueful half smile. "Don't worry. Well... it's a bit late for that."

Biting his lip, Theodore turned and hurried through the Palace doors.

The next morning, when Theodore stepped out of the front door of his house, Chesh was waiting for him. Swinging himself off the tree branch he'd been sitting on, he dropped to the ground, landing on the path directly in front of the Rabbit—who promptly shrieked and jumped several feet in the air again.

"Really, Theodore," Chesh said mildly, once the screaming had stopped. "You need to stop doing that. You're going to damage your ears."

"Well, you need to stop popping out of nowhere and scaring me half to death!" Theodore retorted when he'd calmed himself enough to answer.

"Nonsense," Chesh said. "I can't have scared you half to death. I've scared you more than once, and if I'd really scared you half to death, you'd have been dead by the time I appeared in your kitchen last week."

Theodore gaped at him.

"If you'd say what you meant, we wouldn't be having these little problems," Chesh observed cheerfully.

Theodore huffed, turning away from him and starting to make his way along the forest path. "If you'd leave me alone, we wouldn't be having these problems either."

"Certainly we wouldn't—because there would be no we to have them," Chesh said, easily falling into step beside him.

Theodore chose to ignore that remark. "What do you want?" he asked, eyes straight ahead.

"To help you."

The Rabbit turned to him, eyes incredulous. "To help me?"

"Certainly," Chesh said, smiling widely. Theodore dropped his eyes. "You seemed glad of my help yesterday. I thought I'd offer you another quick trip."

Theodore was silent. Sensing an opportunity, Chesh pressed on. "Think about it. Do you really want to walk through the Tulgey Wood when you've got an easy way to avoid it?"

The Rabbit hesitated, then reluctantly shook his head. "But don't think you're getting any favours out of it," he warned, turning towards Chesh and holding out his hand.

But Chesh, it seemed, had other ideas. Certainly, he took Theodore's hand—but only to draw him forward, pulling him into the circle of his arms. "Certainly not," he said, before Theodore could protest. "I don't force my friends to repay me." And then the world started melting again.

As soon as they touched down on the Palace steps, Theodore jerked himself out of Chesh's hold. "Why did you do that?" he asked. Chesh could hear the faint trembling of his voice. He smiled reassuringly.

"You seemed nervous last time, when I held your hand. I thought this might give you some comfort."

Theodore had no answer to that, so he looked away, turning to the Palace doors. "I'm early," he murmured.

"Is it really going to matter?" Chesh said. Theodore turned startled eyes on him. Chesh just shrugged, and answered his unspoken question. "No one else pays attention to time in Wonderland. The King never sets you a time to be here by, does he?"

"I—I just—it—but—but it's always ten o'clock when I arrive at the Palace!"

"That doesn't mean you're early if you arrive ahead of time. How can you be early—or late—if no one gives you a time to arrive by?"

Theodore just blinked at him, expression hesitant. "I—I just... can."

"Theo, that doesn't make any sense," the Cat sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk!" Theodore retorted. "Nothing you say ever makes sense! And stop calling me Theo!"

Chesh gave him a very dry look. "Think about what you're saying. What have I ever said to you that was completely insensible?"

Theodore opened his mouth hotly, then stopped, finding himself at a loss. As bizarre as the Cat's logic frequently was, it could never be denied that his remarks made sense—in a strangely twisted way. Occasionally they took some thought, but there was always reason to them.

"But, but—you said everyone in Wonderland was mad!" Theodore protested. "That's what you told that girl—and you had the most illogical argument to prove your own madness! Something about—about dogs, and how you must be mad because a dog's not mad. It was utterly absurd!"

Chesh rolled his eyes. "That's what one refers to as a joke, Theodore. Truth be told," he continued, and here he started to chuckle, "I had a hard time of it not bursting into laughter when she just lapped it right up."

"But—but, you still said—"

"That everyone is mad. Yes, I know," Chesh said. "But think about it, Theo. I may be strange—but am I really mad? Or do I simply enjoy playing games?"

Theodore bit his lip. He could hardly deny that what the Cat said made sense—as odd as his remarks often were, they never lacked meaning. Often they were downright nonsense, but they were never illogical. And Chesh had certainly never exhibited any of the other tendencies of madness he had noted in the Wonderland denizens he knew—hallucinations, insensible statements, memory problems, delusions—

"You—you're not mad... are you?" he said, looking up at him with some trepidation. Chesh smiled.

"Last I checked, I was in full possession of my own mind."

"Oh...," Theodore said. "I—I see..." He hesitated. "That doesn't stop you from being utterly infuriating."

Chesh blinked, then gave a sudden bark of full-throated laughter. "Fair enough," he chuckled. "I suppose I'll see you around." And then, with a wink, he vanished, leaving Theodore to face the entrance to the Palace all on his own.

Suddenly far more nervous than he cared to think about, Theodore stepped forward haltingly, fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch. He pulled it out. Quarter past nine. He was very early—no, he wasn't early. Chesh was right. He couldn't be early if there was no set timeframe. Still, it comforted him in his own mind to think of it as early. And early, he reasoned, was certainly much better than late.

Stepping through the doors, Theodore padded silently down the halls, hoping he wouldn't encounter anyone. He was lucky—only a servant or two in livery, hurrying past him with their heads down—until he reached the hallway outside the throne room, just before the King's office. There, he came face to face with the King himself, gently leading the Queen into the throne room.

"Y-your Majesties," he stammered, almost stumbling in his haste to bow.

"Darwin," the King said, nodding. His voice was cold; it always was. Everything about him was emotionless: one blue eye burned with a feverish blankness; the other was hidden behind a monocle. His crown was sharp, steely, geometric. Even the red of his doublet and breeches looked frosted.

"I—I was just on my way t-to pick up my instructions for the day," Theodore said, still bent low. "B-but since you're here, I can—I can receive them in person, s-sire."

"I have a better idea—let me play with him," a whispery female voice said. Frightened, Theodore glanced up quickly at the Queen. Even in the plainest of clothes, she would have been beautiful; resplendent in a black and red gown, touched here and there with gold, the heart motif obvious in the shapes of the fabric, with her face immaculately made up and her hair piled perfectly under her delicate tiara, she was truly stunning—but her soft brown eyes were wild, intent, too hot. It was all too easy to picture her with blood dripping down her face as she laughed and laughed.

"Now, now, darling," the King soothed, his voice still distant and detached. "We need him to do his job," he said, speaking as though the two of them were completely alone. Theodore bit his lip and dropped his eyes, saying nothing.

"No," the Queen whispered, her voice hardening slightly. "It would be ever so much more fun to make him scream—"

"Shh, shh," the King murmured, voice almost mechanical. The hand resting at his side was twitching and crawling in midair like a giant injured spider.

"We should take off his head—take it off—I love watching their heads come off—and you can always put him back together—"

Trembling, Theodore clutched at his pocket watch, desperately wanting to pull it out and check the time again, but frozen with fear—unable to complete this one gesture that would comfort him. He could feel his breathing picking up and his heart beginning to pound in his ears, and desperately he pleaded with anyone that was listening, no, please, not here—not now—please just let me get away from them—

"I'll send him out to work, dear," the King said. "If he does an unsatisfactory job, we can kill him."

Theodore almost choked, breath coming so fast it was only a flutter. He felt dizzy and light headed. Dimly, he reminded himself to breathe.

Smiling dreamily, the Queen relaxed, leaning slightly against her husband. The King turned his attention to Theodore, gaze blank and empty. "She means no harm," he said, forcing a smile. "In an hour she'll have forgotten this ever happened."

Theodore swallowed hard. "Y-yes, of course, sire. W-what are my duties for today?"

"On my desk, you'll find a message addressed to the Duchess. Deliver it to her, await her reply, and return with her message. The Queen desires to hear from her cousin."

"My pretty little cousin...," the Queen murmured.

Shaking so hard he couldn't speak, Theodore nodded. Then, bowing once more to the King and his wife, he fled for the relative safety of the King's study, collapsing against the wall as he fought to control his trembling.

Not here, not now, oh please god not now—

Shaking, he pulled out his pocket watch and flicked it open, calming immediately at the familiar sight of the clock face. Thirty-two past nine. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he counted the seconds until thirty-seven minutes, twenty-nine seconds past nine as he gradually felt his heartbeat slow to normal.

Then, quickly gathering up the message for the Duchess, he scurried out of the Palace.

By the time Theodore had arrived at the Duchess's estate, he had mostly calmed himself; he felt another wave of nervousness swell up as he stepped through her gate, but it was no more severe than his normal wariness. Still, he was cautious walking up the front path, and when he knocked, it was a very timid and small sound.

Almost immediately, the door was thrown open, and Theodore leapt back in shock, biting down a yelp; the Duchess herself stood before him. Taller and more solid of build, her hair a pale brown and her eyes a murky hazel, garbed in a gown of cream, gold, and green and with her hair tucked up under a headdress, she nonetheless bore a strong resemblance to her more delicate cousin. That alone was enough to set Theodore shaking; that her expression was a picture of violent outrage and her fists were planted solidly on her hips was more than enough reason to shrink away from her.

"Was that meant to be a knock?" she shrieked. "I've heard knocks twice as loud from a mouse!"

Bowing, cringing, Theodore stuttered, "A th-th-thousand ap-p-pologies, y-your grace—"

"You're a filthy liar," she snapped. "Why, you haven't apologized a thousand times at all!"

"I b-beg your pardon—"

"Stop cowering! Stand up straight! Speak properly! Did your mother teach you no manners?" Her eyes were hard, her face red with fury; spittle was flying from her mouth as she shrieked. Trembling, Theodore struggled to do as she ordered.

"That's better," she snarled, not sounding satisfied at all. "Now, state your business! You bring a message, do you not? Act the messenger!"

"I-I bear a l-letter from your c-cousin, the Queen of Hearts," Theodore stammered. "Sh-she desires to hear from you, y-your grace."

"Oh." And just like that, all the anger went out of her. Her arms relaxed, hands folding together in front of her; the red of her face calmed. "Of course! What wonderful news! Do come in. You'll take luncheon with me, of course?"

Almost more frightened at her rapid change of mood than anything else she had done so far, the Rabbit could only nod, mutely following her into her house. There he received his second great shock of the moment, because curled up in a pile of cushions in front of the fire was the Cheshire Cat.

The Duchess scarcely noticed how he stopped dead in the doorway, staring, so intent was she on returning to the armchair next to the Cat. Theodore watched, bewildered and shocked, as she leaned down to scratch the skin behind his ears. In response, the Cat nuzzled his head up against her hand; she beamed brightly at this, continuing to scratch his ears and cooing childlike endearments, as, hesitantly, Theodore approached, his perplexed eyes still on the Cat.

"Sit down, dear, please!" the Duchess urged as he neared, looking up for only a moment before going back to petting the Cat. Unthinking, Theodore did as ordered, staring at him; the Cat, with a grin and a wink in his direction, started purring. Theodore felt his cheeks flush and he looked away.

"Isn't he a handsome cat?" the Duchess sighed finally, sitting up and folding her hands primly in front of her. Theodore gave her a startled look, eyes darting involuntarily to the Cat on the floor.

"Oh, ah—yes. V-very handsome."

The Cat smirked. Flushing further, Theodore looked away again.

"Very handsome," the Duchess agreed, nodding sagely. "Now, I believe you had a message for me?"

"Oh, yes," Theodore said, flustered, quickly searching around his clothes for the letter. He held it out to her. "I—I'm to await your reply a-and return with your letter."

"Wonderful!" she cried, clapping her hands. Taking it from him, she pried open the seal, quickly immersing herself in it. For a while, the room was uncomfortably silent, but for the Cat's purring; Theodore's cheeks only reddened further. At last, the Duchess put down the letter, giving a happy sigh.

"Oh, it's so lovely to hear from my cousin again. I'll write a reply right away! In the meantime, you can get started on the luncheon—cook! Bring luncheon, cook!"

Nothing happened for a long moment; then an aged woman appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. She gave a surly grumble as she set it down; the Duchess appeared not to notice. The Rabbit suppressed a sneeze; the old woman smelled strongly of pepper.

"Lovely," the Duchess said once the cook had left, gracefully sweeping to her feet. "Now, you start on those sandwiches, dear—I shall return presently with writing implements." And with that, she glided out of the room.

Theodore occupied himself pouring lemonade until he was sure she was out of earshot, then abandoned all pretence and turned to the Cat, hissing, "What are you doing here?"

Raising himself off the pillows, the Cat stretched elegantly, muscles rippling, and got to his feet. "It entertains the woman to pretend I'm her pet," he said with a grin. "I come by every now and then when I'm bored—she treats me like a prince. Look," he said, gesturing at another dish next to the sandwiches that Theodore hadn't noticed. It was a bowl of cream. Smiling, the Cat picked it up, lifting it to his lips to drink. Theodore could see the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. Trying to distract himself, he picked up a sandwich—even though he couldn't stand the idea of eating meat, it wouldn't do to offend the Duchess.

"I wouldn't advise eating that," the Cat said, just as he was about to take a bite.

"Why not?" Theodore said, lowering it; as infuriating as the Cat was, he was still much more trustworthy than the Duchess. "Is the old woman a bad cook?"

"No, not really," the Cat mused, "though a bit over-fond of pepper for my taste. No, you don't want to eat it because the meat in that sandwich is human."

Theodore dropped it. "W-what?"

"Well, I suppose it's not exactly human," the Cat said pleasantly, sitting cross-legged with his bowl of cream held in both hands. "The Duchess is a fertile woman, and she's had several children already—but she doesn't want to risk that her child will take over her estate, so she has the cook turn them into pigs."

Theodore gaped at him. "But that's barbaric—"

"She's never been the most pleasant of people. Besides, she'd make a terrible mother."

Wide-eyed, Theodore stared at his fallen sandwich.

"Anyway, that's why I'd advise just leaving it."

Theodore looked up at him, opening his mouth to reply, but was cut short by the Duchess's return. Quickly closing his mouth, he picked up a glass of lemonade, sipping at it nervously as she sat down, busily setting herself up to write a letter.

"I won't be a moment, dear, and then you can be on your way. Enjoying the luncheon?" she said, daintily picking up a sandwich. Theodore stared in horror at her hand as she put it to her mouth, taking a satisfied bite.

"Oh, ah, y-yes—yes, very good," he stammered. "I—I don't think I c-can eat anymore—I've had plenty."

"Of course, of course," the Duchess said, swallowing, never noticing that the plate remained untouched. "You just sit tight and sip your lemonade, I won't be a minute—" And with that, she busily began writing, pausing only to take elegant bites of first one sandwich, then the next, then a third. Theodore found himself unable to look away.

"There," she said finally, picking up her letter and shaking it gently to make sure it was dry. "You just scurry along and deliver this into the hand of her Majesty," she instructed, folding the letter up and slipping it back into the Queen's envelope. Theodore nodded, shaking, and took the letter, jumping to his feet.

Just as he was about to dart out the door, however, she called him back. "I wonder, dear, if you could do me one more little favour?" she simpered. Unwillingly, Theodore turned back.

"Yes, your grace?"

"Would you return this to the March Hare for me, darling?" she asked, pulling an elegant handkerchief out of her bosom. "He left it here the night before last."

Fighting back a grimace of revulsion, Theodore quickly shook his head. There was no way he was going anywhere near the March Hare, that overstuffed, pompous, self-serving swine—

"I'm sorry, your grace, but I really have to get back to the Palace—I don't have time for detours, or else I'd take it gladly," he said blithely. Gladly? No, not even then.

"Oh, please. Do be a dear," she pleaded, her lips making a moue.

"I apologize, your grace, but I really can't—"

"Just take it, you ungrateful little wretch!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet; suddenly she was furious again, her face heating up like a boiled lobster. Frightened, Theodore jumped back, shaking.

"I, I—I r-really c-can't, your grace—I apologize—"

"Oh no?" she screamed, advancing on him, her fist raised to strike.

Then, without warning, the Cat, who had until that moment been quietly sitting out of the way and drinking his cream, stepped out of nowhere, plucking the handkerchief from her grasp. Surprised, she immediately turned, fury draining out of her face. Giving her a pleasant smile, he slipped his arm around Theodore's waist, and an instant later, they were gone.