manniness | Chapter Ten: Unthinkable, Unspeakable (2)

And part two...

*~*~*~*

Thanks to a bit of luck, a spark of intuition, and an obliging looking glass, Lowell Manchester’s killer had been revealed.

However...

Tamial Hightopp of Iplam, Magician of Mirrors, does not know what to do about it!

“Win?” he whispers following a very uncomfortable dinner with his aunt, uncle, and cousins during which Winslow had been very, very surly.

His cousin continues stomping up the stairs, not pausing, slowing or looking back over his shoulder. “What?”

Tam hesitates, oddly anxious in his friend’s presence as he never has been before. Perhaps it’s because he’d most recently heard that tone of voice from Lowell Manchester. He shakes his head, trying to knock the memory out of his skull. “Shall I come up with you?”

“No. I want to be alone.”

Stunned, Tam stands on the step midway up the stairs and listens to his cousin storm down the second floor hallway. He flinches when a door slams shut, echoing throughout the house.

“I don’t know what you did,” a bossy tone informs him, “but you’d better do something about it.”

He turns and regards Laney who is glaring at him with her fists on her hips. “Like what?” he dares her to answer, irritated by the command.

“Apologize,” she suggests.

“This isn’t my fault!” In fact, Tam would argue that if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Win’s! He’s the one who wanted to see the duel for himself! He’s the one who wanted to know who really killed Lowell Manchester!

“Then tell my father about it and let him sort it out. He’s good at that sort of thing, you know.”

Tam doesn’t, actually – he’s never spoken much with his Uncle Hamish – but he nods as he rolls that thought over in his mind. Looking somewhat satisfied, Laney brushes past him and heads upstairs.

He lingers on the steps and thinks. Ever since they’d come back through the mirror, Win has been... well, angry. Tam had tried to talk to him, had asked him what he wanted to do now... Furious silence had been his cousin’s only response.

Tam doesn’t like this. Winslow always has an answer for everything!

Not for the first time, Tam regrets ever opening the looking glass, ever stepping into the past, ever finding out what sort of man Lowell Manchester had been and the sort of man Win’s grandfather is.

He killed his own son!

Tam can’t comprehend it. He just... can’t.

Maybe that’s what’s making Win so angry – he doesn’t understand it either...

He sighs. He hates admitting that he needs help. He really does. But, as his Fa sometimes says, “Others may not be able to help you think, but they can help you See.”

Mind made up, Tam turns around and heads back down the stairs to the drawing room. He’s still trying to think of how to explain the situation without incriminating himself or Win when Aunt Margaret’s voice floats down the hall to him.

“... could be wrong with Winslow? I’ve never seen him so...”

“Yes,” Uncle Hamish agrees gravely. “He looked...”

“He looked just like a younger version of Lowell tonight,” she replies, her voice muffled.

Tam creeps forward and peers around the door jamb. There, in the center of the room, Uncle Hamish stands with his arms around Aunt Margaret as she presses her face into his shoulder. Instantly feeling uncomfortable at having seen them look so... sad and... weak, Tam pulls back into the hall to spend a few more moments with his thoughts.

Win had looked like his father tonight. Had looked more like him tonight than he had last night at diner. Surely, that must be a Bad Thing. Especially since Tam has seen exactly what kind of man Lowell Manchester had been.

And then another thought occurs to him: what will Uncle Hamish do if Win doesn’t go back to normal soon? Will his uncle... will he be just like Lord Manchester and...?!

And then it is as if the Fates – which he’s sure ought to lurking in Underland and not sticking their noses in other people’s business Up Here! – had heard his fearful thoughts:

Uncle Hamish decrees, “If he continues to behave like this, we’ll set him to rights.”

“But perhaps he...”

“No! I’ll not allow you to say it, darling. We’ll do what’s necessary to ensure he does not turn into that rotter!”

Tam gasps. Could he mean...?! Is he going to...?!

The thought is incomplete – unthinkable! – but his panic is fully formed.

“No! Don’t!” Tam hears himself shout as he barges into the room, startling his aunt and uncle. They step apart but Tam doesn’t pause to apologize for scaring them. This is Too Important! “Please don’t blame Winslow! This is my fault!”

“Your fault, dear?” Margaret asks. “Why would you say that?”

“Er...” Oh, blundering Bandersnatches! Now what, genius? “Um, just please don’t... don’t hurt Win fer actin’ like ’is Fa.” Tam winces as his words trip off his tongue in brogue. He sighs; perhaps there are times when acting like your father is just natural.

“Tamial, we would never hurt Winslow,” his aunt insists. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Tam glances behind him at the open door. Suddenly his rush to stand in as Win’s Champion doesn’t seem like such a great idea. The safety of the hallway and the nearest looking lass of adequate size beckons...

“Tamial,” Uncle Hamish says sternly. “Close the door and have a seat, young man.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he complies. He tries not to think of nails and coffins.

Tam trudges over to the seat Uncle Hamish points to and sits himself in it. He clasps his hands in his lap, hating the gesture even as he does it – I’m supposed to be too old to feel this ashamed of myself! – but he can’t help it with Uncle Hamish’s stern, blue gaze focused on him. He wonders if Uncle Hamish really could... hurt Win for acting like... his father. His dead father. Tam shivers.

“Talk to me, dear,” Aunt Margaret says. “What has happened to upset Winslow? Did you two get into an argument.”

“Er... no. Not... no.”

She waits. He fidgets. It’s hard to resist Aunt Margaret’s Look but it’s possible. When Uncle Hamish clears his throat, Tam reflexively glances up at him and quells beneath the force of the man’s frown.

Tam closes his eyes briefly and sighs. There’s no hope for it; he’ll get in Big Trouble for this. So will Winslow. In fact, his cousin may never forgive him. Still, Tam takes comfort in the sudden memory of his Mam and Fa. They would want him to tell the truth. They would want him to help Win. Even if it means getting himself into Serious Trouble.

“Win and I... we heard you fought Lowell Manchester in a duel a long time ago, Uncle Hamish,” Tamial admits, carefully editing the events to spare Win as much as he can. “And I... I opened a looking glass and... I asked it to show us the duel... and it did.”

“I... beg your pardon?” his uncle rasps.

Oh, yes: when they figure out just what he’d done, it’s going to be Bad. Epically Bad. But there’s no turning back now. “I opened a looking glass to the past, sir.”

For a minute, Tam wonders if he’d merely imagined saying that and hadn’t actually said anything at all. But, if that were the case, wouldn’t Uncle Hamish and Aunt Margaret be demanding he say something right about now? They aren’t. In fact, they don’t even seem to notice that no one is talking at all.

Somehow, the silence is Not Comforting.

“Er...” he says.

“The past?” his aunt murmurs. “Tamial, that’s not possible.”

“I didn’t think it would be, either. But I asked the mirror to show us the duel, and it did.”

“You... you saw...?” Aunt Margaret asks as Uncle Hamish is clearly too stunned to do so.

“The duel? Absolutely.” He glances hesitantly at his uncle. “You were really good with a sword.” The thought of Uncle Hamish fighting reminds him of something else: “Why did you ask my Fa to stand with you? Did you really fight Lowell Manchester for Aunt Margaret?”

The man chokes.

“Fight Lowell for... me?” his aunt gasps. “I... Where did you hear that?”

Oh, blast! “Um... well... We heard, well, that is, I heard a rumor that Uncle Hamish wanted to marry you when you were still married to Lord Manchester and that’s why they fought.” Yes, Tam decides, it’s much easier talking to Aunt Margaret about this.

Uncle Hamish is still gaping at him, his complexion reddening, when Aunt Margaret reaches out and pats Tam’s hands. “No, dear. Your Uncle Hamish tried to help Lowell but he... misunderstood and took offense.”

Tam scowls, trying to comprehend that. “How can someone get angry when you try to help them?” But even as the words leave his mouth, he thinks of Win.

“It’s... complicated,” she admits. “And not very relevant at the moment. Where did you hear such a rumor?”

Tam finds himself fidgeting again; this conversation is not going very well at all! “A man told us.” He digs though his memory for the name of the man who had gone to the duel with Lowell, who had pulled out a gun and then had thrown his Fa’s knife at Uncle Hamish and hit Lowell instead. For the first time, Tamial spends a moment thinking about that man and decides he probably shouldn’t be trusted.

“Mister Blakefield,” he says without further prompting.

“That rotter!” his uncle growls, turning away and pacing furiously.

Tam and Aunt Margaret watch him for a moment. “Um... Uncle Hamish knows Mister Blakefield?” Tam whispers to his aunt.

“Yes,” she answers. “They are very old... acquaintances.”

“Hah!” his uncle barks, startling Tam. “Acquaintances don’t try to turn their associate’s own son against them!”

“I can see why Win is so upset,” Aunt Margaret muses, “but, please, Hamish, let’s not lose our heads over that man. We’ll deal with him later.”

“I’ll lose my head if I bloody want to!” Uncle Hamish rages.

Amazingly, Aunt Margaret stands and moves toward him. Tam leaps out of his chair and grasps her elbow. “No!” He steps between them, remembering how Lowell had grabbed her, had sneered at her, had hurt her. Uncle Hamish is easily as angry as Lowell had been but Tam does not have to simply stand by and watch his aunt be hurt this time!

“Tamial?” Aunt Margaret says, laying a hand on his shoulder. Only then does he realize his fists are clenched and the room is utterly silent. Even his uncle had stopped his furious pacing and angry shouts.

“I... I’m sorry,” Tam says, unsure of what else he ought to say.

“Did you believe,” Uncle Hamish asks in a shocked tone, “that I would hurt your aunt just now?”

“Well... you were really angry,” Tam admits awkwardly.

“And have you seen people hurt each other when they are angry?” Aunt Margaret asks.

Tam sighs, nods, and figures he might as well tell them everything. At this point, he’s too tired and confused to keep secrets anymore. “We – Win and I – when we went through the looking glass, we followed Lowell Manchester home and we saw...” He looks up at his aunt then glances away, uncomfortable with the memory. “We saw you try to help him but he... he was so angry and he... he hurt you and... and then you called for the doctor.”

“Oh, my Lord...” His aunt sinks down into her chair again.

Unable to look at his aunt, he glances at his uncle who looks much paler than usual. “What did you see, Tamial?” he asks.

“Er... he grabbed Aunt Margaret’s wrists and... he said some very bad things to her. And the he pushed her and she... fell.” Tam can’t resist looking in her direction although he doesn’t try to read her expression. “You didn’t ask the doctor to check your face when he arrived. And... before that... when you were in the first floor water closet... Win could hear.”

“Oh, no... No...” she whispers, sounding thoroughly wretched. “I never wanted him to see – to know – what Lowell...”

Uncle Hamish strides over to her and places his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “We’ll talk to him. Explain.”

“Yes,” she agrees, accepting the handkerchief he offers her and dabs at her eyes. After a moment, she takes a deep breath. “Yes, we will.” She then turns and addresses Tam again. “But that still doesn’t explain why you feared we would hurt Winslow for behaving in a... similar manner to...”

Tam takes a deep breath. He thinks of his Mam, the White Queen’s Champion. He thinks of his Fa, Uncle Hamish’s best friend. A Champion and a Friend. Tam would like to be both for his cousin. And he knows what his parents would do in this situation.

He looks up and confesses, “The truth is... Win got a letter from someone just before the anniversary party...” And so Tam describes the conversation at the pawn shop and how he’d hidden because Win had had to appear to be alone.

“But we didn’t know how to confirm what he said... And then, this afternoon, after Win’s lessons were finished, I got the idea to try the mirror. I asked it to show us the duel.”

And then he tells them about what they’d seen and how no one had seemed to hear either him or Win. No one had seen either of them, either. “It was like we were ghosts,” Tam confesses. “So, when Lowell hurt you... I’m so sorry, Aunt Margaret. We couldn’t stop him.”

He doesn’t tell her that they had been too shocked to even consider trying to save her. That would be too mortifying to ever admit to!

“It’s all right,” she assures him. “I was fine and he never hurt me again.”

Tam winces. “I... I know.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I... I didn’t only ask the mirror to show us the duel.” He glances at Uncle Hamish apologetically. “I also asked it to show us who really killed Lowell Manchester.”

“Tamial...” his aunt says softly. “No one killed Lowell. He died on the journey to America...”

“He was supposed to,” Tam interrupts her.

“I don’t... I don’t understand,” she replies. The words seem to indicate that she expects an explanation, but her tone seems to ask him not to explain at all.

“That evening, Lord Manchester visited,” Tam continues hesitantly.

She nods. “Yes. I remember.”

“He... he ordered Lowell to go to America. And, as he was leaving, he said... he said...” Tam swallows, gathers his courage, and... “He said he would send Lowell to America, but that Lowell would never step foot on it.”

“No...” Aunt Margaret replies. “No, you must have misunderstood, Tamial. Lord Manchester would never...”

Tam says, tries to explain, “After... after Lowell hurt you, Winslow wanted to come back but... I didn’t know how to open the mirror on that... that side. I tried everything, but we couldn’t leave. But then, after we heard Lord Manchester say... those things... suddenly we were back. In my room upstairs. Like nothing had happened.” But So Much had happened! Far too much!

“I could take you back there,” he offers – mustering every last ounce of his courage to do so. “I could show you... if you wanted.”

The proposition is met with silence. The very silentest sort of silence.

“You really believe you could, don’t you?” Uncle Hamish wonders aloud.

Tam looks up. Frowns. “Of course I do. I did it already!” And there’s no reason for the mirror to refuse him so long as he asks nicely!

“Hamish,” Margaret interjects. “That’s hardly the point now. Tamial has provided sufficient details to prove to me that he has seen what he’s said he’s seen.” She turns back to him and confirms, “And Winslow saw and heard all of this with you?”

He nods. “I think he’s angry because... well, I dunno. He didn’t like Lowell Manchester very much. And... Lord Manchester... he really... Well, he must have really... done what he said he did because I don’t think the mirror would lie about something like that...”

Margaret smiles, but the expression somehow looks very sad. “No, I don’t imagine mirrors can lie. They have never lied to me, in any case.” She looks up at her husband and says, “We need to talk to Winslow.”

Tam lets out a blustery sigh. “He’ll know I told you. He’ll never want to speak to me again. Maybe I could just go home?”

Aunt Margaret pats his knee. “We’ll discuss that in the morning. Come on,” she continues without even glancing at the clock, “it’s time for bed.”

Although his aunt doesn’t look at the clock as she announces the time, Tam feels compelled to confirm it, and he is wryly amused at the fact that she is right. It’s nearly ten o’clock: well past bedtime.

He lets his aunt and uncle gesture him up from his chair. “What will you tell Win? About his father? About his grandfather?”

“The truth,” his uncle answers.

“We will tell him that his father did have several good qualities – charm, wit, humor – when I married him, but that he became ill. And yes,” Aunt Margaret continues, answering Tam’s unasked question, “overindulgence in drink and gambling is an illness, dear. A very serious one. The man you saw was not himself, and had not been in a very long time.”

“And... Lord Manchester?” he dares, whispering.

“Tamial does not have to see that man if he does not wish to,” Uncle Hamish declares. “I will look into what really happened aboard the ship – that should not be too difficult a task to accomplish as the ship was one of ours and the company keeps very thorough records. One way or another, we will sort this out.”

“All right.”

Tam receives an escort to his room, quiet thanks for his help, and a wish for pleasant dreams. He doesn’t think he’ll have any though. Despite insisting that he – and everything else – is all right, he doesn’t truly feel that way. Thanks to Time flying with him, he is thirteen years old instead of eleven, but tonight he feels younger than he can ever remember feeling. Young... and unsure. Everything is not all right: Win’s father had not been a nice man and Win’s own grandfather had somehow killed him. No, everything is not All Right. In order for everything to really be all right, Tam suspects it would have to be his Mam and Fa wishing him a gehd night with callaycious dreams.