Hamish had been expecting a lot of things out of his morning; he had been expecting breakfast, which he had never gotten. He had been expecting his father to accompany him to the Kingsleigh household; Lord Ascot was swept up in paperwork at his office and left shortly after waking. He had been expecting to speak with Alice upon arriving at her home; he had instead found her already out of the house, involved in a "family emergency." He expected to try and make sense out of Alice's confusing connections (in the calmest, most semi-normal and authoritative manner he could manage); he had not expected to stand around hearing a completely ludicrous tale of assault upon Lowell Manchester's person while his half-frantic wife fluttered about to attend to his every need. Hamish, after resigning himself to fate, had also expected Stayne to find the entire situation extremely humorous, inspiring hours of derogatory banter; however, Stayne has, after hearing Lowell's recitation of events, parked himself in the dark corner of Lowell's private study and has yet to move, or indeed respond to anyone who has dared invade his brooding, for over half an hour.
And Stayne isn't the only one acting strangely to Hamish's reckoning. Tarrant has been quite put-off by Lowell's description of the supposed woman in the looking-glass, and spends several minutes of his own rambling incoherently and with varying levels of hysteria before seeming to convince himself (of what, Hamish has no idea) and calm down to rejoin their little group with Hatta's usual semblance of normalcy.
Alice, too, has a moment where she pulls Hamish aside and expresses distress at yet another half-memory, another wisp of knowledge, of assurance, that a white-haired young woman she knew, that a looking-glass is more than just a reflection, and that there is so much more to it all, so much missing.
Something is going on here (and Hamish feels terribly, terribly uninformed).
He does, however, manage to relay the information he's acquired through Hatta and Stayne to Alice after she has finished her confidence to him. She had not been able to locate the smoky pussy or the haughty rodent, and the stories that Hamish finds most relevant to recount don't spark any new recollections, so both Hamish and Alice go back into the Manchester sitting room disheartened (and Alice rather testy, as her upset sister is upsetting herself, and Lowell has been rather hysterical and not at all polite for most of the morning, not to mention Hamish's and Helen's initial skepticism at him being attacked by a reflection, though both are now on board, Hamish having seen enough already to doubt sanity is real and Helen being willing to believe just about anything now, seeing as she'd doubted too much too often while her daughters had grown up in a world she'd never believed in).
Needless to say, teatime is a rather drear affair.
"Maybe," Hamish says after a far-too-long silence that makes him feel irrationally annoyed. "Maybe this woman who attacked Lowell-maybe she's also the one who pushed Alice."
Helen's brow furrows. "When was Alice pushed?"
Ah. Hamish had forgotten that not everyone has the whole story. "Um..."
Alice giggles at Hamish's hesitation, looking appropriately abashed as she stifles them. "Sorry. The word 'Um'; it just... I don't know why it's funny. Sorry."
"When were you pushed, dear?" Helen asks again.
"Off her boat," comes Stayne, finally deigning to join their assembly in the sitting room. "She didn't fall overboard, she was pushed."
"What?" Both Helen and Margaret exclaim at once.
Lowell, wet cloth to his bruised neck, shrugs. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
"I knew this already," Hatta chimes in excitedly, like a child who knows an answer in primary school.
Stayne's face is as drawn as ever, obviously not interested in the ignorance of the people he is currently associating with (why he is then still associating with them is not so much of a mystery to Hamish, who watches the giant of a man gravitate around the room to Alice's immediate area; something he doesn't like, not one bit). "I don't see why Mirana would try to drown her own champion, and there's even less of a reason for her to strangle Alice's brother-in-law, who she's never met." He glances to Lowell. "Unless you're just generally that unlikable."
Lowell braces up for a retort, but Hamish intercedes. "Mirana? Why does that name sound familiar?"
"Ahcause it be tha' name o' my queen." Hatta is on his feet, glaring darkly at the young Lord with such intensity that he cowers where he stands, shocked and afraid. "Ya not be ahccusin' ma queen o' tryin' ta hurt no one, ya hear me ya-"
"You'd be surprised, Tarrant," Stayne slips in coolly. "Just what exactly your precious queen is capable of."
In a moment Hatta has rounded, turning his deadly eyes on the seemingly unconcerned guest sunk at the edge of the room. "Tha White Queen be peaceful, just, an' good. It wa' yer queen, ya slurvish scum, that scourched our lands an' slaughtahd tha people, with yer sword cuttin' 'er a path, ya murderin'-"
"Hatta, please."
Alice once again shifts her body before Stayne's, blocking him protectively from Hatta's rage and malice, something that seems to shock both men (and, indeed, Hamish and the rest of the room, as well). Tarrant Hightopp, devoted to his Alice, stands frozen before her, hurting a hundred different ways, and it seems that only Stayne and Hamish can see it. Stayne's face adopts smugness, glorying in Alice's defensiveness against the Hatter, lording it over the madman without a word.
"No matter what else he did," Alice speaks slowly, precisely, each word cutting Hatta deeper. "This man saved my life. Please, hold your tongue."
Mr. Hightopp's entire being slumps, deflated, back down into his chair. "Y-yes," he stutters out, face twitching as a smile tries to find its way through the sorrow etched there. "S-so s-sorry."
Stayne watches the Hatter gleefully for a moment more, then rests his eye on Alice. What Hamish sees there disturbs him-and makes him wonder. For what he sees is confusion, a confusion of the heart that is all too familiar to both of the London men in the room; the confusion that plants the potential for change in a man's mind, his being, his very soul.
It looks as though Tarrant Hightopp isn't the only one whose devotion to Alice runs deep. And Hamish is liking this all less and less by the second.
"So..." Lowell, obviously feeling the strain in the room and fighting it, brings back the tense topic. "You think this... this Queen Maria or whatever is the one who attacked me?"
"Mirana," Stayne and Alice correct together (he is watching her with wonder again, but pulls himself back to the conversation quickly). "And yes, I do."
"But why?" Alice asks, beginning to pace. "Why would Mirana want to hurt me-or Lowell, for that matter?"
"She wouldn't." Hatter speaks slowly, cautious and forlorn. "The White Queen has taken a vow of pacifism. She can't harm a living thing. Whoever did this, it wasn't her. Maybe looked like her, but it wasn't Mirana."
"Vows can be broken."
Stayne and Tarrant lock eyes again, undercurrents of hate bracing the room.
"Not without reason." Alice stomps her foot to reestablish control. "The question is still, whether or not she did it, why? Why would anyone want to hurt either of us?"
Stayne chuckles (it isn't a pleasant sound to Hamish). "Oh, I could think of plenty of reasons the people of Underland would want to hurt you, my dear."
"But Lowell?"
Stayne shrugs.
Hamish snorts, bringing the unwelcome gazes of everyone in the room on him. He meets them all fleetingly, nervously, then finds Alice's. They have an understanding there, the knowledge that they both also know plenty who'd want to hurt Lowell; but not anyone from this new, magical world they are being pulled into, not anyone who'd want to hurt Alice, too.
"Well," Alice finally sighs, breaking the awkwardness. "If it was the same person, whoever that may have been, who attacked me, then there must have also been a looking-glass on the ship for her to come through, correct?"
"I only ever saw her in looking-glasses," Lowell affirms. "And she vanished when I broke the one she came through, so I think so. As much as I'm willing to believe any of this, anyway."
Margaret rubs his shoulders soothingly, with as much doubt on her face as is on his. Overall, the room is brimming with confidence (and Hamish doesn't have to wonder why; at the very least, though, he isn't the only one suffering the effects of world-shaking revelations and general craziness).
Alice nods firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Alright, then. Let's go inspect the ship I came over on."