It Was All About The Hat - Part 3

[rix_scaedu]

I wrote this piece in response to ellenmillion's prompt (or possibly prompts) "I love friends-to-lovers. Something with a printing press. Magical hats." As it came in at just over 9,000 words. I have broken it in to 3 parts. This is the third part. The first is here, and the second is here. I hope that you all enjoy them.  This part is 3,064 words.

Mrs Tormald was pleased to see them when they arrived at the house she and Marisa shared.  Marisa's mother had spent the morning potting up seedlings from trays and despite having worn a gardener's apron she still had random fragments of potting mix sprinkled around her person.  After greeting them, offering the coachman refreshments, and arranging for the garden odd job boy to hold the horses for him, she said to her daughter, "Was it the wrong hat?"

"Oh, it was the right hat," replied Marisa.  "It just refused to leave unless you come to get it."

"It's talking then."  Mrs Tormald looked grim.

"And flipping itself up so it can slap someone," added Marisa.

"If it's feeding, I'd better come and rescue the household, hadn't I?"  Mrs Tormald sighed.  "I suppose that there's nothing that really has to be done right this afternoon.  I'd better wash up and get changed then."

It was half an hour before they were on the road again.  Mrs Tormald had changed into a business-like travelling dress a while Marisa and Artemius had refreshed themselves.  On this journey, Artemius sat facing backwards facing between the two ladies and they discussed the hat, Mrs Tormald's knowledge of the Wishmoulds, and the weather.  Mrs Wishmould asked what they had discussed on their journey back into Gullhaven and Marisa revealed that she had agreed to see a play with Artemius.

"That sounds very nice," said Marisa's mother approvingly.  "The Third Season's a good play, when it's well done.  When I was younger, I once saw the great Lettice Brabinger in the role of Lena.  The play was a success but the relationship with the gentleman who escorted me was not.  And then, after a while, I met your father, dear." She smiled at Marisa.  "Your father took me to see a production of Four Bonny Lads put on by an amateur dramatic society - we had to retreat from our seats to avoid the storm of soft produce being thrown at the stage.  I believe it was over something political between a leading cast member and the Ricardian Loyalist Party.  We went to a coffee shop around the corner and had dessert instead of staying for the end of the play.  Which turned out to be a good thing because the play didn't finish - the fruit throwing turned into a brawl, and the police came....  We heard later that the Riot Act was read."

Artemius, enchanted, asked, "Ma'am, did you and Mr Tormald bond over the Alfanse Street Riot?"

"You know, I think we did." She smiled at him.  "Not that I was paying much attention at the time.  The Ricardians were rather silly people, when you got right down to it, and Mr Tormald had all my interest in the moment."

The rest of the trip went well and took the expected hour.  This time the gate was opened for the carriage by a grounds man, and the driver stopped the vehicle in front of the front door so that his passengers could disembark before he drove around to the stables.

Mr Forman opened the door when Mrs Tormald knocked.  "Mrs Guiliana Tormald to see Mr Wishmould," said Marisa's mother brightly.  She handed him one of her business cards and added, "I believe I am expected."

"Yes, Mrs Tormald." Mr Forman took the card and ushered them into the house.  "Welcome back, Miss Tormald and Mr Inkman.  Please, let me take your coats and hats.  Mr Wishmould is in the front parlor with a tea tray.  He thought it best not to wait for you in the same room as the hat."

"That was probably wise of him," approved Mrs Tormald as she took off her hat and handed it over to the butler.

When all the garments were neatly hung on the appropriate hooks, Mr Forman led them to the front parlor.  It was, both Marisa and Artemius noted, in the opposite direction to the study.  The door was already open, and the butler stepped inside and to one side, then announced, "Mrs Guiliana Tormald, Miss Tormald, and Mr Artemius Inkman."

Mr Wishmould stood up and bowed.  "Thank you for coming."  He gestured at the other seats clustered around the low table with the tea tray on it.  "Please, take a seat."  He looked at the butler, "Forman, could we please have another plate of cakes and a fresh pot of tea?  Thank you."  When the butler had gone, and his guests were seated, he sat down again.  "I am sorry to have put you to this trouble, Mrs Tormald.  It concerns me that your hat should have wound up in my hands - I understood that my late uncle had set a number of tests for me in his will that I had to pass before I could secure control of my full inheritance, but I am beginning to wonder about his chosen executor.  After your daughter and Mr Inkman left here this morning, I contacted my solicitor, not my late uncle and his estate's solicitor, to obtain details of my uncle's will."

Mrs Tormald was regarding the cake stand with interest.  "Are those lemon shortbread, Mr Wishmould?  If they are, may I have one, please?"  He offered her the cake stand and a plate, then put the stand down after she took one.  "I'm sorry, but I do love a nice lemon shortbread and I was busy potting-up Tataramoarsau taputapuwae indarmasu seedlings this morning, so I find myself quite peckish.  I take it that the executor has told you that items were left by your uncle for you to identify or duplicate, and my hat was presented to you as one of those items?" She took a bite of her shortbread, holding the bone china plate in precisely the right place to catch any crumbs.  She chewed her mouthful of biscuit and swallowed, then said, "Delicious!"

Mr Wishmould looked fascinated.  "Yes.  I would like to think that my uncle's chosen representative wouldn't be duplicitous but I'm beginning to have concerns.  One of them is that I may have overlooked signs that something wasn't right because it is quite a large bequest that hangs in the balance here." He sipped his teas again.  "Forgive me if this is a forward or rude question, but are you related to the Intaglia family, Mrs Tormald?"

At that point Mr Forman re-entered the room, carrying a teapot and followed by a maid carrying two fresh cake stands laden with small cakes, biscuits, and some savoury snacks.  Mr Forman swapped over the teapots and the maid poured fresh cups of tea for everyone before the two servants left the room again.

"I was an Intaglia before my marriage," Mrs Tormald admitted.  "A minor branch, descended from one of Cosmo's younger sons.  My maternal grandmother, who I inherited the hat from, was a Mandragara.  The great-aunt who made the hat and left it to her was also a Mandragara.  And you?"

He gave a little laugh.  "My connections aren't as grand as yours, ma'am.  My father was Cladious Wishmould's only surviving brother, but my mother was a Longpool.  My paternal grandmother was always reminding people that the Longpools were hedge wizards."

Mrs Tormald almost spluttered.  Marisa did choke on her drink. Mrs Tormald asked mildly, "Your paternal grandmother didn't move in Arbiter or rural circles, did she?  I would not have thought it wise to be derogatory about the Longpools - they are rather good at particular types of magic.  Some of them are particularly well known for their curses."

Mr Wishmould replied, "That is a well-respected skill." Then he stopped.  "I’m surprised that you've heard of my mother's family.  My mother herself used to tell me that they were no-one of importance."

"My daughter and I run a nursery for magical plants, Mr Wishmould.  Dorothea Longpool in Galemoor is one of my oldest customers and suppliers.  If you can trust a Longpool, then you can trust them forever, but they are not people that you want to spring surprises on, like turning up unexpectedly for a visit."  She sipped her tea again.  "Or to make enemies of."

Mr Wishmould paused for a moment, teacup in the air.  "I wonder if that was why my grandmother was never quite well," he said thoughtfully.  "I always thought that my mother wouldn't say boo to a goose and accepted my grandmother's opinion that she was lesser...and I can't remember ever meeting her side of the family.  Interesting." He drank some more tea.

Mrs Tormald finished her biscuit.  "Now that we've established who we are and our various connections, would you care to get down to business, Mr Wishmould?"

"Certainly, Mrs Tormald." He put down his cup and saucer.  Marisa and Artemius glanced at each other without moving their heads and then just watched and listened.  "In my study we currently have your hat that has been refuelling itself on the ambient magic exuded by myself and already present in this house.  It has facilitated this activity with an innate mesmeric ability.  Said hat was stolen from you and foisted onto me. The person or persons responsible for this theft and subsequent foisting are not currently available to us and their identities are not completely clear.  Are we agreed on those points?"

"We are," confirmed Mrs Tormald.  "You are not responsible for the damages done to me and my household in the act and fact of the hat being stolen.  As the legitimate owner of the hat, I am not responsible for the actions of the hat after it was illegally and forcefully removed from my care.  Do we agree on those points?"

"We do." Mr Wishmould nodded.  "You will take custody of the hat, remove it from my property, and return it to your own.  I will pursue the executor of my uncle's will through legal means, to begin with.  Do you wish to pursue the matter from your end by tracking the thief through his or her presence on your property and their contact with the hat?"

Mrs Tormald sighed.  "In an ideal world, yes.  The hat was not the only item stolen from us the other night.  However, neither my daughter nor myself have the ability to conduct that type of magic.  Do you?"

"I could," he said thoughtfully, "and there would be advantages working from both ends.  For a start, it would be easier for me to compare magical traces if I were doing so.  Working with the hat could be problematic."

"I know," Mrs Tormald acknowledged, "but it has taken instruction from me in the past and I believe that it will again."

"If you were to take it home today, and I were to visit the day after tomorrow to begin work at your end," suggested Mr Wishmould, "would that work for you?"

"It would," agreed Mrs Tormald.  "Before we go and deal with the hat though, might we have a few more things from that delicious selection?  It really has been a long morning."

"Of course," Mr Wishmould offered the refreshments to his guests.  "Should I be concerned about the reaction of your Tormald connections if I start spending time at your property while investigating this matter?"

"My late husband was a minor heir in a cadet line," Mrs Tormald replied quietly.  "Frankly, they would have preferred him to marry a more powerful magical scion than me.  I know that they were hoping Marisa would exhibit more magical ability than she has to date."

"They're perfectly nice to me, and I know that Grandma and Grandpa are at least fond of me," added in Marisa, "but none of us think that I'm the great white hope of this generation of the Tormalds.  They would probably have something to say if they thought you were going to propose to me, but otherwise I don't think they would be interested."

 "The only person who is likely to object, that we know of at the moment," said Mrs Tormald thoughtfully, "is your uncle's executor."

Artemius interject a question. "Sir, who is the executor?  You haven't said."

Mr Wishmould gave a thoughtful look at the fireplace while he checked his memory.  "I haven't, have I?  Not odd enough to pursue at this point, I think.  He's an old associate of my uncle's.  They studied under the same teachers in their early twenties.  Professor Doctor Baron Waldren went on to do advanced studies overseas and my uncle went into personal research on transmutation and biological constructs."

Mrs Tormald asked, "Professor Doctor Baron Alaric Waldren?"

"Why yes, do you know him?"  Mr Wishmould offered her the cakes again.

Mrs Tormald took a cake.  "I may have met him when as was young, at my grandmother's house because she and his mother were friends.  His mother's most notable non-arcane skill was forgery.  His late father died while being pursued by the authorities following the Krellzhouse Museum theft."  When everyone in the room looked blank, she added, "The thieves took three bog mummies and their torcs.  It was all over the newspapers and in the magical teapot gossip, and then suddenly it wasn't.  Even at ten I thought that was odd."

"I had forgotten that," said Mr Wishmould.  "How peculiar."

"If it becomes relevant," put in Artemius, "I can look in our records at the Gullhaven Announcer to see if a suppression notice was put out.  My grandfather and great-grandfather were running the paper back then, but they were good at filing things like that."

"Perhaps we should get back to the hat," said Mrs Tormald.

"We should," agreed Mr Wishmould.  "If you are ready ma'am, I will take you to my study where it may be creating destruction."

Mrs Tormald put down her cup.  "I'm ready," she said.  "Mind you, on past form it may be occupying itself with doing the dusting."

The hat was, in fact, hovering over Mr Wishmould's desk, flicking over papers.  Something about the neat deliberate way in which it was doing this made it clear that it was reading those papers as it did so.  After a moment in which he took in the scene, Mr Wishmould stepped forward angrily and asked, "Are you reading my private correspondence?"

"Of course I am," replied the hat.  Although it could not be said to have looked up, it did stop turning over papers.  "There was nothing else that I cared to do in here.  I'm very glad to see you, young Guiliana.  Getting out and about is all very well, but I would like to go home now, thank you."  The flowers on the hat moved and it seemed that the hat had moved its attention to Mr Wishmould.  "These letters from Alaric Waldren, young man.  I'm sure that you realise that he has not signed his name without protections, but there's something going on with the salutations as well, and I am certain that those are not protections.  Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to go home with my owner."

"Ma'am, if, as we have already established, you are a lady, and you have an independent will and intellect, then you are a person and cannot be owned."  Mr Wishmould spoke carefully, will glancing back and forward between the hat and Marisa's mother.

"That would be true," conceded the hat, "but I prefer to be a construct.  The legal position suits me much better.  Responsibility and all that."

"A person is responsible for their actions under law, so the full weight of the criminal and civil codes apply to them," said Marisa slowly.  "With caveats for minors and etcetera.  The actions of a construct are the responsibility of their creator or the owner who directed their actions.  Oh."

"Exactly," said the hat smugly.

Mrs Tormald asked, "Am I about to be held responsible for something?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think so, dear," replied the hat breezily.  "I was stolen, after all.  Now, I had that thought that the one who stole me might do for little Marisa, but it turned out that he was using the tools supplied to him, so not as interesting as he seemed at first.  Waldren, of course, is quite unsuitable for either of you - a husband who'd try to strip you of your cash before running off to another scheme would not be an asset."

Mrs Tormald asked, "How did we suddenly get onto marital prospects for my daughter and myself?"

"Because that's my primary interest these days," replied the hat chirpily.  "I don't need to suggest nefarious schemes to keep your household afloat because you've come up with an excellent non-nefarious scheme yourselves.  Fending off your magical rivals: well, I would if either of you had them, but you don't.  That leaves helping you arrange satisfying personal lives, and for that I recommend husbands.  Little Marisa here is old enough to get married, and fifteen years of widowhood is quite long enough, if you meet someone you want to change your circumstances with.  Of course, to get a husband, you have to meet men who aren't already married but are suitable husband material."

"Thank you," said Marisa.  "I think I can manage on my own for now."

The flowers moved again as if to consider Marisa.  "There's a lot to be said for letting you get an idea of your own preferences before launching a campaign," conceded the hat.  "Your mother, on the other hand, needs to meet more suitable men."  The flowers moved again to regard Mrs Tormald.

"I really don't think I have time to pursue the matter at the moment," she replied briskly.  "To begin with, there's the business, and then Mr Wishmould is going to help us track down the thief.  You weren't the only one of our possessions that were stolen that night."

"Helping you, is he?" said the hat thoughtfully, moving its flowers to face Mr Wishmould.  "He'll be coming around to the house and visiting then, will he?"

"That is our current intention," replied Mr Wishmould.

"Excellent," replied the hat.  "Retribution and revenge are excellent bonding activities.  Now, Guiliana, please put me in a hat box and take me home.  I may need to sleep for a while.  When I wake up you can tell me all about this other young man, the one who’s been escorting little Marisa all over the countryside without you."

Comments

[kengr]

Ok, not what I was expecting, but good fun.

[rix_scaedu]

Thank you.

[wispfox]

That was great fun to read, thank you for sharing!

[rix_scaedu]

Thank you.

[reedrover]

By the end of this, the hat was speaking in my head with a very busy-body, brisk, robust Great Aunt voice. I could almost hear the hat dusting its metaphorical hands in that last paragraph.

[rix_scaedu]

Yes, exactly. She's had her adventure and now she'd like to go home.

Of course, she's not precisely a nice old lady.