Lowell, now no longer afraid for his life (well, maybe only a little) and playing up all injuries, is enjoying his lazy day, for his cute little wife is in a million huffs to cater to his every need, and there is no denying how lovely she is, and how he did love not having to do anything himself. And while Helen is a slight hamper on an otherwise perfect day (except, of course, the whole strangling event; he is trying not to think about that), her presence in the house is not unwelcome, and her comfort to his ruffled wife is invaluable (for he could not himself handle her woman-feelings, for he has none of his own and cannot understand hers. Women may be something Lowell enjoys immensely, especially this woman, but he cannot fathom their minds, and cannot at all do a thing to quell the turmoil that seems to be haunting his Margaret, for she cannot let this strangling business go-not that Lowell can, either, but at least he can keep it to himself. Or, at least, he thinks he can, but he is under the impression that Helen knows he is not as alright as he is trying to convince his wife he is, for fear is not something Lowell is accustomed to feeling or hiding (affairs, yes-not fear; for Lowell is a confident man, but one that would save his own neck in an instant, that is, a coward of the finest gentry)).

So it is not at all a pleasant discovery to find a rather large, oddly colored pussy lounging on his bedspread (Lowell is allergic to cats, and doesn't like them in any event, the nasty things).

"Margaret." Lowell begins a slow march around his room, eyeing the cat with disdain. It seems not to mind him, watching with a strange curiosity in its large eyes. The thing's mouth is so disproportionate that it almost appears to be grinning at him (which is only further disquieting). "Margaret? There's a cat-"

"Were you calling, Lowell?" Helen steps into the room and turns her gaze between the two occupants, becoming faintly amused. "When did you get a cat, dear?"

Lowell plants himself in his wife's vanity seat, loosening the cravat he's been using to cover his bruises as his prickling discomfort at the animal spreads across his skin. He is going to break out, he can feel it, the wretched thing. "We didn't, Helen. I'm allergic, I'd never have one. How did it get in here?"

"Must have come in when Alice and the fellows left." Smiling, she makes her way toward the bed. "Such a pretty thing. What an unusual coloring."

Helen reaches forward and, obligingly, the pussy raises its neck to receive her scratching hand. Purring ensues.

Lowell rubs his neck. "Just get it out of here, will you?"

"Alright then." And Helen reaches down for the cat, which promptly dissolves into a puff of smoke.

Helen and Lowell stand, stunned, staring at the empty spot on the bed where the pussy had been moments before, as Margaret walks in and is forced to stop in concern at the looks on her two loved ones' faces.

"Mother? Lowell? What's wrong?"

"They tried to throw me out," chimes in the cat, now hovering lightly over Margaret's shoulder. "Terribly rude, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man at the docks apologizes again, looking like he'd much rather be left to his work than answering questions. "The boat you're talking about already departed."

"Wonderful," Stayne mutters from behind Alice, peering around the docks scornfully. "What a delightful waste of time we just endured. Shall we continue with this pointlessness or is there some other form of benign living you'd like to inflict on me?"

Beside him, Hatta fidgets, barely suppressing a growl. He's done his best to behave (and Stayne has done his best to goad him into failing) for most of the trip. Why Alice had thought it was a good idea to bring them both (along with his esteemed self) Hamish is at a loss to understand. He could have stayed behind, of course, but then he would have left his Alice to wander about the Port of London with naught but two madmen for her protection, one of which is determined to incite the other to violence, and that just wouldn't do.

"Do you know where it is bound for?" Persists Alice.

The sailor continues to fidget uncomfortably under the baleful glares of the annoyed giant, manic ginger, huffy lord, and pressing female. "I don't, Ma'am, I'm sorry."

He starts to back away and is quickly intercepted by Stayne (who, it seems, is warming up to the idea of intimidating people under Alice's orders if it means an end to the simple act of standing around and doing nothing, as he has been), who smiles down at the worker sinisterly. (Now, Hamish is not exactly in the best of shape, and relies on his authority and rank to get him what he needs. This sailor is taller, broader, more muscular, and obviously seasoned at sea, and would normally have been something of a beastly man in Hamish's tender presence, obviously not one to put up with Alice's questioning or be put off from his duties. It is a small blessing, then, that Alice has, in fact, forced her small group of gents along, most especially their towering new friend, as his overly large exterior and smug expression over scarred tissue is absolutely the only thing keeping their informant in place). Alice steps forward, successfully boxing in the jittery sailor.

"Then would you happen to know who would?"

The man takes one last, nervous glance at Stayne, who smiles encouragingly (the effect is ghastly), before essentially versing Alice in the entire hierarchy of the London Port. In less than an hour, Alice comes flouncing back to where she had grounded her red-haired companions before trotting off to Lord knows where (Hamish is still miffed about this. But, as Alice had explained, they could hardly leave the Hatter by himself while she ran about gathering information, and she couldn't trust Stayne to watch him without provoking an incident just for the fun of it, and she couldn't take all three of them with her (shouldn't she have thought of that before dragging them to the port? Not that he would have let her leave with only Stayne for company, but that is hardly the point! Insisting she couldn't leave the Hatter with her mother, couldn't leave Stayne either, couldn't take them both without someone to mediate-this whole debacle is just absurd!) as she is trying to save time and Hatta had gotten into three rows with random boatmen for no discernable reason already, and she wasn't having any more of it. And so). A smile on her face, Alice declares her intentions.

"I booked us passage."

She looks so proud of herself, Hamish is lost as to what she is talking about for several moments. "You... what?"

"Booked us passage. Aboard a ship."

"What for?"

"To give chase, of course," Alice's face drops, and she, Stayne, and Hatta all stare at the young Lord as though he is the one making no sense.

"Chase? Goodness, why?"

Alice's brow furrows. "Goodness, why not?"

Sputtering, Hamish looks to the other menfolk, hoping for support and finding none. "So, we're just going to hop aboard some random vessel that hasn't been properly inspected, I'm sure, and chase after yet another random vessel to Heaven knows where, taking Heaven knows how long, just for a look about for a single looking-glass and then pop off again? That's the plan, is it?"

"Well... yes," Alice does as Hamish had, peering to her companions for assurance as to her idea's validity. Immediately, Hatta is on his heels in support.

"Oh, yes Alice! That sounds splendid! Stupendous! You have such wonderful, fun, interesting ideas, and I rather like this one, though I'm sure you've had other good ones before this and after this but I'm looking forward to this one in particular and... and..."

Hamish gives a sigh, watching without the slightest bit of deniability as the Hatta's bowtie begins to droop, his color fade, and his excited smile falter. For Alice seems to have taken his reassurances with quite the opposite effect he has intended, and now looks even less sure of herself, as a man who is very apparently insane has agreed so whole-heartedly.

"I'm going to take this lovely little opportunity," Stayne slithers in, looking out across the water as though he could care less for the conversation he has elected to take part in. "To say that I am here, and you are here, and I will follow you. Lead."

Alice turns, head twisting up to see Stayne's passive face. His eyes flick down at her momentarily, but that seems to be all it takes to reestablish the lady's control. Hamish watches his precious one, his almost-sister, never-wife, take strength from this stranger, dismiss his concerns, and simultaneously break the hearts of two good men with a single look (and she has no idea, none at all).

"I'm going." Her voice is solid, her eyes crystal. Beside him, Hamish feels Tarrant almost convulse with sadness. "If you wish to remain behind, Hamish, do so. Hatta, if you wish to travel with us-"

"Us" being she and Stayne, obviously. That is not lost on Hamish.

"-then you had best control yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-you could be no clearer, dearest." Hatta replies, barely choking on his own pain.

"We won't be any trouble, Alice." Hamish puffs up haughtily, stepping a bit closer to Tarrant. "We go with you. Of course we go with you."

And this makes Alice smile, for which Hamish finds himself both glad and resentful (for he can hear, beside him, the tiniest whisper of the Milliner of the High Court of Marmoreal echoing his sentiments, "of course...", for it is the most obvious thing in the world for both of them, and her doubt is grating on his insides).

But all this is washed away as that champion of hearts leans forward to grasp the hands of both her boys, clasping them tightly. "Together then."

"Together," Hamish and Hatta chime without hesitation.

Alice releases them, turns, and passing by Stayne, leads the way. "I'll have you know, Hamish, that I did choose a ship with some consideration as to your needs-"

But the young lord stops listening the moment Stayne places his hand on Alice's back, keeping pace beside her.