His Secret Madness, Part 1

His Secret Madness
By: M. Greystone
Inspired by ~Lily-fox’s “Masquerade”; and of course Rain27 & Bri-chan’s “When Curiosity Met Insanity”
Just as a side note, this isn’t a part of the “Maddening Winter” series, this is a whole new tea-party, kids!
As always, I own nothing except my words…

Reginald Theophilus, III, Mad Hatter and hatter extraordinaire, pondered the sugar cube melting slowly in his teacup, the white-haired man amusing himself by picking up a spoonful of clotted cream and poking it at the surface of his drink to make a smiley face.  He frowned when the cream began to smear, the smile turning into a leer.  Good God, even his beverages were flirting with him these days!  He pushed the cup away and grabbed a new one before the tea could even think of chatting him up, he told himself as he poured a fresh round of tea.

He didn’t notice the intruder into his tea garden until a voice addressed him from the chair to his side, making Reggie squawk and nearly spew tea across the table.

Theophilus glared at the tall man outfitted in a dark blue morning jacket and snowy white waistcoat with matching cravat, his shining brown hair pulled neatly back in a black satin ribbon at the base of his tanned neck.  “Yes?” he asked testily, pointedly scooting his strawberry-shaped teapot away from his visitor.

“I need your help, Reg,” Admiral James Norrington of the East India Trading Company replied, plucking a sausage roll from a scrollwork plate rack and helping himself to a clean cup.

Reggie quirked an eyebrow, his mouth twisting sardonically as he watched the Admiral drop a slice of lemon in the cup and pour the last of the Earl Grey over it.  “I’m not going after Sparrow again,” he said firmly.  “Last time that happened he dumped my tea overboard, swearing that the stuff was poison and that I needed to cleanse my system with rum.  TEA! OVERBOARD!” the Hatter shrieked, his mind whisking back to the horrific sight of his travel set of tea tins falling in a clanging rush over the side of the ship, Jack Sparrow dancing away to retrieve a bottle of rum.  “The horror!” he gasped, clutching his tea cup lovingly and smiling down at the soothing amber liquid therin.

“Erm, yes…horrific,” Norrington agreed, his own mouth hitching to the side in concern for his table companion.  Maybe he should’ve gone to that Lumiere fellow…

Reggie drank deeply, collecting his calm, and Norrington took the opportunity to continue.

“No, Sparrow isn’t involved in this one,” he reassured Theophilus.  “I need you to write a letter for me.”

Reg’s dark reddish-brown eyebrows shot up in happy surprise.  “Certainly!  Which one would you like? I’m particularly fond of Q’s, all the looping and swooshing they do, you know, although L is certainly a nice one also.”  He nodded conspirationally at the other man, whose eyes had bugged out briefly.

“You’ve been working with felt again, haven’t you?” James asked dryly, chewing the last bite of the sausage roll and reaching for a raspberry tart.

“Actually, yes, why?” Reggie asked, smiling.  “Belle came in this morning requesting a new bonnet for Alice Liddell, and I set to work on it.  It’s going to be fantastic—“

“Excellent!” Norrington interrupted.  “She’s who I need to speak with you about!”

“Belle?  What on earth do you need with her?  Did she order a book for you that you don’t want someone knowing about?”  Reg smirked, wiggling his eyebrows, and Norrington spluttered and recoiled, nearly sloshing tea on the tablecloth.

“No, Alice!”

“Alice bought a book you don’t want to know about?” Reggie asked, puzzled, and he smeared jam on half of a scone.  “Or are you buying a book for Alice and you don’t want Belle to find out?”  He shook his head, amazed at the affairs of a bookshop.  “I truly don’t think she’s going to be jealous, my friend.  Belle and Adam seem very happy together!  Why, just the other day I met her in the pastry shop and she was buying éclairs for a picnic with him.  No, I think she’s quite happy, Admiral.  You might ought to turn your attentions elsewhere.”

Norrington sighed.  “No,” he said through clenched teeth, striving to keep his patience in check.  Really, Lumiere might have just been the right choice.  “I want to court Alice, but I’m all thumbs when it comes to writing sweet words.  The speech you wrote for Phillip and Aurora’s wedding was monumental, and so…”  He trailed off, shrugging and smiling nervously.

“Ah. Well…”  Reg blinked rapidly, his scalp tingling under his massive green top hat, and he managed to set his cup down before it could drop from his nerveless fingers.  “Alice, yes.  Erm, thank you for the compliment on my speech, Admiral,” he fumbled, the fabric of his thoughts snagging on the sharp needles of Norrington’s declaration towards the petite blonde.

Court her.  Not ask for a cup of sugar, not borrowing a hammer to hang his most recent clock-er map, probably in the officer’s case, not…not anything! Except affection, desire, longing…courting.  He sat back in the green paisley armchair, and slammed back his cup of tea, the hot liquid searing its way down his throat.  “So, you want to court her,” he repeated numbly, staring across the table at the twisting trunk of an ornamental azalea.

“More than anything,” Norrington smiled, staring off as well, though with swirling thoughts spun like candy floss that tied sweetly around the image of the lovely Alice Pleasance Liddell.  “She’s wonderful!  So delicate, so graceful… I have to have her!” he said conclusively.  “Can you help me?”  He gripped the sleeve of the Hatter’s tangerine wool coat, his hazel eyes desperate.

Reginald looked at him, his thoughts clear though his heart had chilled painfully.  He stared at the other man, recognizing the same wild look that he’d glimpsed in his own eyes after looking in the mirror when waking from dreams of the pretty bookseller, and also the same need he’d felt in his own gut whenever she walked through his mind.  He exhaled, even his freckles feeling depressed as he said,  “Very well, Admiral Norrington.  I shall help you to win Miss Alice.”  He nodded once, trying to convince himself that this was the right thing.  She’ll never go for you, old boy, haven’t you learned that by now? he asked himself, thinking back to all the arguments, all the brush-offs, all the times she spun on her delicate little heel, nose in the air, and flounced away from him with nary a backwards glance.

He looked to the now-grinning Englishman, and refrained from sighing again.  At least she’d be happy;  Norrington was steady, reliable, kind and well, he had to admit it, sane.

“Tell me what you had in mind,” Reggie requested, forcing energy into his voice he didn’t feel, even with all the caffeine singing in his veins, as he pulled a pen and paper from his coat, and he and Norrington began to discuss plans.