Hamish finally manages to coax his mother into resting herself once the house goes silent. No more screaming, no more crashing, no more shattering or banging or breaking. A word from a brave servant tells him the hatter has indeed stopped his rampage, and is merely standing there in the middle of the living room, looking dazed.
His mother immediately orders the authorities be summoned and Mr. Hightopp be taken away, and Hamish agrees absolutely. He assures his mother it will be done—he sends out a messenger in their fastest carriage—and it is only after that that she lays back down, sated.
During the entire falsehood, Hamish doesn't even bat an eye.
He did go down stairs and send out a messenger in a carriage, though. But the boy wasn't sent to the authorities; he was sent to the Manchester estate, and from there, the Kingleigh's.
Then, he marches (with three able bodied young servant men behind him) into the living room.
The hatter hasn't moved since the last servant had reported. He is still standing there, limp, staring vacantly at the floor. His lips are moving slowly, but his eyes are glossy and his voice a whisper.
Once again, Hamish is struck by how harmless and childlike he looked.
And how terrifying it is that looks can be so deceiving.
Hamish licks his lips nervously. "M-Mr. Hightopp?"
The hatter stops muttering to himself abruptly, his eyes shooting up towards Hamish. The look sends a cold chill through him.
"Aye, ah bein' tha only Hightopp left, at tha'." His accent isn't as thick as when he was yelling, but it is enough to make Hamish swallow before he speaks again.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know."
"Alice, though, she a no' bein' alone, is she?"
Hamish struggles for a moment with what exactly the hatter is asking before he decides how to reply. "No, Alice still has her mother and sister, and even when she's abroad, my father is always with her."
"People she can nah leave behind." The hatter mutters, growing less menacing and more pitiful by the moment. "Nah like this mad hatta."
"She left you behind?" Hamish asks curiously, hoping this will bring about some explanation as to how the hatter had met Alice.
"Aye, said she 'ad 'questins ta answa,' an 'thins she 'ad ta do.'" The Hatter speaks bitterly, but with no real anger left in him. His voice grows soft and forlorn, a man broken—to Hamish, in more ways than one. "Said she'd be back afore I knew it, but I 'ave known it fer awhile now, an she still hadna come back."
His shoulders slump in what might have been a shrug if Mr. Hightopp's wide eyed face wasn't so searching. He faces Hamish fully now, a scared child once again. "Ah thought she mightta fergotten me."
"...so you came after her." Hamish finishes, his fear of the Hatter all but gone, if only temporarily. He knows the man can fly into a rage again at the drop of a hat (not that he'd drop his hat, certainly, as it is still about his head no matter the fit he'd thrown), but he can't bring himself to really be afraid at that moment, even after all that has happened. Instead, what he sees before him is a man desperate—and determined. Whatever country he is from, he'd left it for London, which he is obviously unknown to, in pursuit of her—of Alice.
Hamish had watched from the dock as Alice had boarded the Wonder and ventured out to sea, and then he'd sat at home sipping tea, waiting worriedly for her to return.
Never once had he thought to abandon the comfort of his home to chase her.
No, not like this madman.
"You are a man to be admired, Mr. Hightopp." Hamish admits grudgingly, choked by his own inadequacy and shame. Truthfully, he adds, "I don't see how Alice could possibly forget a man like you."
The Hatter only shakes his head. "She 'as bafore."
His head snaps up again suddenly, and the abruptness of it, after all of the milliner's sluggishness in their conversation, makes Hamish jump. Tarrant is in front of the young lord in a second's time, grasping him lightly by the shoulders, an odd twinkle in his bright eyes. "Tell me: have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
Startled, Hamish honestly tries to wrack his brain for an answer, not seeming to question, until after the Hatter has released him, why it seems to be established fact that a raven is like a writing desk and they only need to identify why, and not question whether a raven and a writing desk truly have anything in common. "I have no idea, sir."
Sighing in defeat, the Hatter slumps back onto the over turned sofa, not seeming to be bother by the fact it is upside down. He glances around for a moment, taking in the scene that is the destroyed sitting room before turning back to Hamish and asking, "Did you say it was time for tea here?"
After all that has transpired, tea time was long over, but Hamish is not going to mention that now. He turns to one of the men still flanking him and says, "Fetch Mr. Hightopp some tea. We'll be taking it in father's study. The rest of you, see to this mess."
The servants glance warily between themselves, but set to work none the less, and Hamish motions for the Hatter to follow him out, which he does. Hamish leading, he takes the Hatter up to the study, which is equipped for business meetings and thus has a fine table they can sit at. Hamish only prays Mr. Hightopp will have no more outbursts—especially not in his father's study.
He seems to be getting his wish, as his guest sits neatly in his father's high-backed chair (in which Hamish would normally have seated himself, as it is the focal point in the room and he is the host, but he isn't going to make the man move so long as he is behaving himself) and takes his tea in relative silence, only commenting briefly on the taste and quality of his drink. He seems to appreciate that it was served hot, oddly enough (but really, Hamish shouldn't consider anything odd anymore, not with this man about).
But despite how much Hamish treasures this silence, silence itself is not something that Hamish has been raised to accommodate. A host leads conversations, pleasant ones, and so far almost every conversation that has transpired in the Ascot household today has been decidedly unpleasant if not completely disastrous. This, to Hamish, is unacceptable, and thus he sets about to remedy the situation. And to do it not rashly, but with much care and thought, for the Hatter is a sensitive man and Hamish will have to be delicate no matter how trivial he thinks his topics are.
And after a moment, Hamish decides that maybe trivial talk is just that, and he shall avoid it all together. Instead, he begins by answering a question that he had before ignored in favor of cutting off one of Mr. Hightopp's earlier rants.
"My father and Alice's were business partners," Hamish says with a bit more somber of a tone than he had intended. Glancing over to the Hatter, who is now watching him curiously, he tries to smile a bit and lighten his talk. "When we were children, they would gather for meetings, whether at the Kingsleigh household or here at my home, and Alice and I would be left to our own devices, as much as children are."
"You've known her since she was a wee lad, then?" Mr. Hightopp replies, taking another sip from his cup and seeming much more jovial now.
Hamish feels his lip twitch a bit. "Lass."
"Hm?"
"You said lad, but Alice is a lass, being female."
The Hatter's expression falls, and Hamish wishes he'd just let it alone. So, he continues before Mr. Hightopp can reply.
"Alice and I, well, we really never got along extremely well. Put up with each other, mores the like, but since Alice has joined the company our families, while always they'd been close, are closer than ever. And I suppose the same for Alice and I." Hamish adds after a thought. "So you might understand a bit my confusion at not knowing of you, sir. How did you meet Alice, might I ask?"
The Hatter takes another sip of his tea, and stares down into his cup oddly. Hamish tries not to be insulted, but feels a whine of annoyance escape him. Mr. Hightopp seems to take no notice, but swirls the liquid about. It is suddenly he replies.
"Can't say she ever mentioned you, neither." He looks up, grinning again. "I met Alice when she was a wee child myself, though not for very long was it. Just a short tea party, after which I'm afraid she got herself into a spot of trouble with the bloody big head."
Hamish almost asks what that means, but seeing the distinctly dark look about the Hatter and that turning in his eye makes the young English lord bite his tongue.
"Course, so did I, the next time she was about. And we were both in trouble the third visit oh hers, being what it was with the war and what not." Suddenly grinning, the Hatter tips his glass to Hamish, spilling his tea onto the carpet. Hamish stares down at the spot in horror, but Mr. Hightopp smiles wider and shrugs. "Glad that's over."
This time, Hamish almost asks about the war (Alice, visiting a foreign nation while it is at war!? How on earth could that have happened without him knowing it?!), but again decides it best not to speak (getting better at that, he is, thank you very much, Mr. Hightopp). If mentioning the death of Charles Kingsleigh had evoked such a reaction from the man, then bringing up his country's past war will probably be a very bad idea, indeed.
But Hamish is saved from having to come up with a new topic of conversation as the messenger comes into the room, looking rather out of breath. Hamish notes he'd made the trip extremely quickly, and thinks to give him a good tip, something he isn't prone to do with the staff, as being efficient is their job and not something to be commended for, but he is rather glad for the interruption just then and thus his disposition is an amiable one.
"Sir, the Manchesters and the widow Kingsleigh will be arriving within the hour, as requested. Mrs. Kingsleigh was already at the Manchesters when I arrived to relay the message." Glancing worriedly at the hatter, who is giving the man his utmost attention with his disconcerting, wide gaze, the messenger continues. "They did not recognize the name of your guest, sir, but were not surprised to hear of a friend of Ms. Kingsleigh's that they knew nothing of."
Hamish nods. This probably is not the first time nor will it be the last that unknown friends of Alice's show up. After all, most her knew acquaintances are met overseas, and thus will remain a mystery to her family back home for quite some time, if they are ever introduced at all.
But rather pleased with the development none the less, Hamish dismisses the messenger, turns back to the hatter, and sips his tea, still contemplating Tarrant Hightopp's excited, gap toothed smile and wondering what exactly Alice has gotten herself into.