The Mad Hatter
Catesby and Son, situated on Oxford Street, was indisputably the finest millinery shop in all of London. Reginald Catesby, a charter member of the Royal Tradesman's Association, had worked hard to establish the business, which received a Royal Warrant first from Queen Victoria and then from her successor, Edward VII.
Just as the British Crown would be handed down from mother to son, the responsibility of providing quality women's hats to the Royal Family, the peers of the realm and London high society was to pass from father to son. Graham Catesby, who had trained all his life to one day take over the helm of the business, became a well-known name in the world of fashion while still working under his father's tutelage. Where the parent was meticulous in his craftsmanship and attention to the smallest details, the son was born with an innate flair for design. In fact, many of Catesby and Son's customers specifically asked for Graham when ordering hats for special occasions.
As Edward VII's reign was coming to an end, Reginald Catesby peacefully passed away in his sleep one night. With her husband gone, Eugenia, the widow, went to work behind the counter at Catesby and Son, allowing Graham to devote himself full time to hat making. The arrangement worked out well since many customers preferred dealing with another woman when settling their accounts.
"At least the company name still applies," Eugenia teased her only child. "It's still Catesby and Son. Only I'm the Catesby, not your father."
"You don't want to talk like that in front of the customers," her son chided in an equally joking mood. "They might think you're one of Mrs. Pankhurst's followers, demanding votes for women."
"And what's wrong with that? I thought you were in favor of women's suffrage."
"Personally, yes," he admitted. "Professionally, however, I have to remain apolitical. It wouldn't be wise for me to ...."
The front door to the shop opened and in walked Miss Rosamond Smeaton, a woman whose beauty left Graham speechless.
"May I help you, miss?" Eugenia asked.
"Yes, I'd like to buy a hat."
"What sort of hat?"
"I'm not exactly sure. You see, I'm a singer," the young woman explained. "I've got a job performing in the Tivoli music hall down on the Strand, and I want a hat that will dazzle the audience."
Eugenia, who approved of women voting but not appearing on the stage and singing in public, could barely hide her condescension.
"I'm afraid Catesby and Son is not a theatrical costumer," she declared haughtily.
"Let me handle this customer, Mother," Graham said, smiling at Rosamond. "I'm Graham Catesby, the owner of the shop."
"So you're the one who made all these beautiful hats?"
"Yes, I did," the milliner replied, blushing at her compliment. "Now, why don't we go into my workshop and have a cup of tea? Then you can try to describe for me what you're looking for."
"I want something large and eye-catching," the young woman confessed once she was sitting at a small table across from Graham. "I'm going to be appearing on the bill with several other women, and I want everyone to notice me."
"I'm sure I can make that possible. I have some very nice ostrich plumes and artificial flowers."
"There's one other small matter," the performer said sheepishly.
"What's that?"
"I don't have a lot of money to spend."
"I'm sure we can come to some arrangement," Graham answered. "You can pay me a little bit each week until the bill is settled."
"Thank you, Mr. Catesby. It's a pleasure to do business with such a fine gentleman as yourself."
* * *
The following week Rosamond Smeaton returned to Catesby and Son to pick up her new hat.
"I'd like to speak to Graham," the aspiring singer told Eugenia when she entered the shop.
"I'm sure Mr. Catesby is busy at the moment," the older woman replied frostily, indignant that the customer had referred to her son by his first name.
"But we have an appointment."
Mrs. Catesby frowned. It wasn't like her son to pay such close attention to his customers.
"Wait one moment, please. I'll see if he's available."
"What is it, Mother?" Graham asked, looking up from a Merry Widow hat that was to adorn the head of the Lord Mayor's wife.
"There's a young lady here to see you."
The milliner's face brightened considerably.
"Rosamond is here?" he asked.
"If that's the name of the music hall performer who was in the shop last week, then yes."
Graham immediately dropped what he was doing and hurried into the showroom area of the shop.
"Miss Smeaton!" he exclaimed with joy as though he were greeting an old friend after a long absence. "I'm delighted to see you."
"I was hoping my hat would be finished."
"It is, indeed. Why don't you come in the back with me, and you can try it on?"
Eugenia was worried. Not one of their customers was ever asked into the work area, and yet this was Rosamond's second such invitation.
My God! she suddenly realized. Graham fancies that young woman!
She supposed that her son, who would be turning thirty-five on his next birthday, was at an age where he ought to be married. Up until that point, there had been few women in his life mainly because he simply did not have much time to socialize. Eugenia always assumed he would marry someday, but surely there were more suitable candidates for a wife than a music hall singer.
Meanwhile, in the workroom, Graham was taking an elaborate bonnet out of a Catesby and Son hatbox.
"That's mine?" Rosamond asked with disbelief. "It's beautiful!"
"I'm glad you like it."
"But I could never afford such a grand hat. Why, those ostrich plumes alone must cost a small fortune!"
"Don't worry about the price. I'm giving you a new customer discount."
Delighted by her reaction to his work, the milliner placed the hat on the young woman's head and secured it to her hair with a large hatpin.
"I love it!" she cried, staring at her reflection in the mirror. "It's bound to get everyone's attention when I'm on stage."
"I would imagine you would get everyone's attention hat or no hat."
Graham spoke impulsively and was embarrassed once the words left his mouth.
"Forgive me for speaking so ...."
"You needn't apologize," she quickly assured him. "I'm flattered by your compliment. If you and your wife ever want a night out, why don't you come to the Tivoli and catch my act?"
"I'm not married."
"Your fiancée then?"
"No fiancée either. I'm afraid I'm an unattached bachelor."
"Then you can come by yourself."
"I'd like that very much."
Rosamond got up from the chair, returned the hat to the hatbox and tried to hand the pearl-topped hatpin to Graham.
"No, you keep it," he insisted. "After all, you don't want the hat falling off your head in the middle of a performance, do you?"
"You're much too kind. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
* * *
When Eugenia secured the front entrance on Saturday evening and prepared to go home, she was surprised to see her son waiting for her at the rear door.
"You're not leaving now, are you?" she asked.
"Yes, I am. The store is closed for the night."
"But you always stay until ten or eleven. Surely sales aren't down."
"Have no fear, Mother. Our business is as good as ever," he replied, locking the back door behind him.
"You're not feeling ill?"
"Stop worrying. There's nothing wrong. I'm going out for the evening, that's all."
A warning bell sounded in Eugenia's head.
"Where, if I might ask?"
"If you must know, I'm going to the music hall to see Miss Smeaton perform."
"Are you sure it's wise to become so ...."
She hesitated, not sure how she should word her well-meant advice.
"... so friendly with a customer."
"I'm thirty-four years old, Mother. As much as I appreciate your concern, I believe I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
Eugenia wanted to argue the point, to tell her son that women who performed in music halls often had questionable morals. He had spent his whole life making hats. What did he know of the world?
"I've got to go now," Graham said, handing his mother over to their coachman's care. "Don't wait up for me."
On the way to Tivoli's, he stopped and purchased a large bouquet of flowers from the local florist. When he arrived at the music hall, he gave them to a stagehand.
"See that Miss Smeaton gets these, will you?" he asked, giving the young man a generous tip.
"Certainly, guv. But who is this Miss Smeaton?"
"She's one of the singers here. A very attractive young woman with red hair and green eyes."
"Oh, yeah. I know the one. I'll see that she gets your flowers first thing."
The show was nearly over before Rosamond finally appeared on stage. If it were not for the flamboyant hat he had designed for her, Graham would easily have missed her. She was but one singer in a chorus of more than a dozen young women, singing backup to the featured vocalist. Although her part was small, she lit up the stage—at least for the infatuated milliner.
When the show came to an end, Graham made his way through the rather unruly crowd to the women's communal dressing room. Rather than enter a chamber filled with young ladies in various stages of undress, he waited patiently in the hall for Rosamond to come out.
"You came to see me!" the singer exclaimed. "Did you like the show?"
"I did, and I thought you were marvelous!"
"You're lying," she said with a pout. "How could you possibly hear my voice when everyone else was singing?"
"I meant that you looked marvelous."
"It was the hat. It worked just like I hoped it would. I've gotten so many compliments on it. Why, last night the son of Lord Stirling even stopped by after the show to pay his respects to me."
A sudden feeling of anxiety came over Graham. It took him several moments to realize what he was experiencing was jealousy.
"I'd love to stay and talk to you," Rosamond said, "but I'm famished. I haven't eaten a bite all day."
As his mother had feared, Graham was not wise to the ways of the world. He did not realize the young woman was angling for a dinner invitation.
"I haven't eaten either. Would you like to have supper with me?" he inquired, fully believing the idea was his own.
"I'd love to!"
The anxiety was gone, replaced by excitement at the prospect of an intimate meal for two with the stunning redhead.
* * *
Over the next several months, Graham spent at least three nights a week at the Tivoli music hall, always taking Rosamond out to share an expensive dinner with him afterward. During that time, the performer moved out of the chorus and into a solo spot. The first time the love-struck bachelor actually heard his heart's desire sing, he was disappointed. Even by second-rate music hall standards, she was not very talented. However, what she lacked in musical ability, she more than made up for in stage presence. Every man in the audience gave her a standing ovation when her song came to an end.
"I have a surprise for you," Graham announced when she stepped into the Catesby family carriage after a performance one evening.
"I love surprises! What is it?"
He removed a hatbox from beneath the blanket his mother kept in the carriage for cool weather.
"Another hat? Oh, Graham, you shouldn't have. You've already given me four, and I still haven't paid you for the first."
"You know I don't want your money. Your happiness is all that matters to me."
"You really are a dear man!" she exclaimed as she put the new hat on her head. "What kind of bird does this plume come from?"
"A bird of paradise."
"It's lovely, but I must admit my favorite is still the blue one with all the peacock feathers. I love peacocks!"
The driver took them to the restaurant where, as usual, Rosamond ordered the most expensive item on the menu. She did not always eat so well. In fact, unless someone else was picking up the tab, she made do with bread, a cup of broth and an occasional bowl of lamb stew. After their supper, Graham instructed his driver to head to St. James Park.
"Why are we stopping here?" Rosamond laughed. "Don't tell me you want to pluck a few feathers from St. James's pelicans to make me a hat! What's next, the ravens at the Tower of London?"
"Rosamond," Graham began, taking her small, delicate hand in his, "you must know how I feel about you. I brought you here because I want to ask you to become my wife."
Graham held his breath, hoping for an affirmative reply. However, Rosamond did not give him any answer.
"Well?" he finally asked.
"You said you wanted to ask me, but you didn't yet. I'm waiting for the question."
"Dearest Rosamond," he asked, dropping down on one knee, "will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Again, there was no immediate response.
"This is all so sudden," she finally said. "Would you give me some time to think about it?"
Graham was stunned and hurt by her reply. What was there to think about? She either wanted to marry him or she didn't. Rosamond knew from the expression on his face that he was upset with her, and she was quick to reassure him.
"It's not that I don't share your feelings. I do. It's just that I've always wanted to be a singer, and now I'm finally getting an opportunity to perform. If I were to give it all up now, I might spend the rest of my life regretting my decision."
"Very well," he said, adopting a noble attitude. "If it's a career you want, I won't stand in your way."
Rosamond had to act fast, fearful that her one prospect of a comfortable life slip through her fingers.
"I know it would be terribly unfair of me to ask you to wait six months or a year."
Graham's face brightened.
"Would you consider marrying me then?"
"Yes. I imagine I'll have had enough of being on stage by then."
In truth, she wanted the time to see if she couldn't do better than a milliner—like, for instance, the son of an earl.
* * *
Having spent the majority of his time since he was a small boy in Catesby and Sons' workroom, Graham had been exposed to harmful mercury vapors when working with felt, unaware of the dangers they posed to his health. Already, at the age of thirty-five, he was experiencing the incipient symptoms of erethism mercurialis, a neurological disorder more commonly known as mad hatter's disease. What his mother believed was a lack of worldliness in her son, was actually low self-confidence and timidity caused by erethism.
As he waited for Rosamond to get over her aspirations of being a singer, Graham began to experience additional symptoms including headaches, irregular heartbeat and a decrease in physical strength. He was also prone to periods of depression, apathy and irritability. Eugenia naturally laid the blame for her son's deteriorating mental and physical state on Rosamond's doorstep.
I knew no good would come of his pursuing such a woman!
As the weeks and months slowly passed, Graham designed even more outrageously ostentatious hats for the woman he loved. He became so besotted with her that he took her out to supper every night after her performance, stopping only when she began gaining weight. At her insistence, they limited their meals to three nights a week. On the days when they did not meet for supper, he attended the performance at the music hall—just to see her face.
After a full six months had gone by, Graham decided to propose again. He waited, unannounced and uninvited, outside the dressing room door, ready to take her back to St. James Park and hopefully place an engagement ring on her finger. He was stunned to see her step out the door on the arm of Hugh Stirling, the son of Lord Stirling, the Earl of Cambridge.
"Graham, what are you doing here?" she asked with surprise.
"I came to see you. It's been six months since we went to St. James Park."
"Rosamond, who is this man?" Hugh inquired, his voice reeking of arrogance.
"This is Graham Catesby. He's the owner of Catesby and Son."
"The hat maker? Of course. My mother and sister buy their bonnets at your shop. Look, give the young lady whatever she wants and put it on Lord Stirling's tab. I'll wait for you outside, darling."
Darling?
"You had no right to show up out of the blue like this!" she said angrily through clenched teeth.
"No right? Don't you think I ought to know what the woman I plan on marrying is up to?"
"Whatever gave you the idea we were getting married?"
"That night in St. James Park you told me to wait for you, that you would marry me once you'd had enough of performing on the stage."
"I'm sorry if I didn't make my meaning clear. I told you to wait and ask me again. I never meant that I would accept your offer, not at that time nor in the future."
"You led me on, then, knowing all the while that you wouldn't marry me."
"That's not true. I merely wanted to postpone making a decision by having you ask me again in the future. As it turns out, it was for the best. I've fallen in love with Hugh Stirling."
"Since we had dinner two days ago? That was quick."
"No. I've being seeing him for several weeks now. I just didn't have the heart to tell you."
"How considerate of you!" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
There was nothing left for Graham to say, not even goodbye. He simply got into his carriage and drove away.
* * *
"I notice you've been spending more time at the shop lately," Eugenia commented one morning over breakfast. "This past month you've managed to clear up the backlog of orders."
"I'm no longer seeing Miss Smeaton," he announced flatly.
Although his mother tried to hide her happiness at the news of the breakup, he saw the smile she quickly suppressed.
"I asked her to marry me," he admitted. "But it seems she prefers Lord Stirling's son."
"Surely he hasn't proposed to her?"
"I don't believe so."
"No, nor is he likely to. The earl and his wife would put a quick stop to any talk of his marrying a music hall singer."
His mother's adherence to outdated Victorian social mores notwithstanding, her words gave him comfort. Whatever Hugh Stirling may feel for Rosamond, it was doubtful his parents would allow him to marry her. It was just possible, he hoped, that when Rosamond realized their relationship was headed nowhere she might reconsider his offer.
Would I even want her back after she tossed me aside? he asked himself.
He did not have to think twice. The answer was a resounding yes.
She has to know that I'll be there for her no matter what. That when Hugh Stirling moves on to his next conquest, I'll welcome her back with open arms.
Graham thought of the engagement ring that was in his dresser drawer under a pile of socks. Perhaps he ought to give it to her as a token of his undying love and affection. Rosamond need not wear it yet. She could keep it hidden somewhere, far from prying eyes.
Yes, he decided, I will give her the ring.
For four nights in a row, Graham waited in the shadows outside the stage door for his beloved to emerge. All four times, however, Rosamond was accompanied by Hugh Stirling. On the fifth night, she finally appeared alone.
"Who's there?" she cried when he stepped out of the shadows.
"It's me, Graham."
"What do you want?"
"To give you this," he replied, handing her a ring showcasing a large emerald.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to know my proposal of marriage still stands—and will stand as long as I'm alive."
"I told you I'm in love with Hugh," she cried with exasperation.
"I know that, but I also know he's in line to an earldom. He can't marry a ...."
"A what?"
"A person not of genteel birth."
The aspersion cast on her lack of proper breeding infuriated Rosamond.
"You're wrong. Hugh loves me and he's going to marry me, regardless of what his parents think. Besides, I wouldn't marry you anyway. You talk about my humble birth, but what are you? Nothing but a shopkeeper. So don't go giving yourself airs just because the royal family wears your bloody hats."
* * *
Most men would have walked away from the brief romance, considering themselves lucky to have discovered Rosamond's true nature before she had the opportunity to ruin their lives and run through their family fortunes. But then most men were not victims of the deadly erethism mercurialis. By the time Graham was nursing a broken heart, the occupational disorder had progressed to its most extreme stage.
Now suffering from tremors, dizziness and insomnia, the hat maker was undergoing a complete change of personality. The former mild-mannered gentleman was short-tempered and rude, offending not only his customers but also his own mother.
"She's done this to you!" Eugenia cried. "That music hall hussy has made you bitter and hurtful, but you must get over it. You can't take it out on everyone around you."
"You're right, Mother—as usual. I apologize if I've hurt your feelings."
"It's your feelings I'm concerned about. You have to forget about her. She's not worth it. Find yourself a nice girl who can make you happy."
The last thing Graham wanted was to move on to another woman. His mother was correct about one thing, though. Rosamond Smeaton was to blame for his misery.
"Why don't you come home with me now? We can have dinner together, and then you can get some rest. You look like you can use a good night's sleep."
"I've got so much work to do," he explained. "Once I've filled the existing orders, I'll catch up on my rest. I promise."
After his mother left for the day, Graham began work on what was to become his greatest design: a spectacular Gainsborough hat, sometimes referred to as a picture hat because it framed the wearer's face. The hat itself was made of vibrant emerald colored felt. White velvet ribbons and bows adorned the bonnet as did white tulle and artificial pink, yellow and red roses. Feathery plumes died emerald to match the felt gave the hat additional height. Finally, a spray of peacock feathers provided even more color to his masterful creation.
It was nearly dawn when the hat was completed. He carefully placed it in a hatbox, which he then locked inside a cabinet where his mother would not stumble across it. Exhausted, he went home, lay on his bed and fell asleep with his clothes on.
The following night he was again at his post outside the stage door, waiting for Rosamond to emerge. He was lucky; she was alone.
"Not you again!" she cried when she saw him approaching her.
"Please don't go," he begged. "I know I behaved badly. I want to give you this hat as a form of apology, and I'd like to wish you and Hugh every happiness."
Rosamond eyed him suspiciously.
"Are you on the level? You wouldn't be trying to trick me into seeing you again?"
"No, no. That's over. I know when I've lost, and I'm a good loser. Hence, the peace offering."
After accepting the hatbox, she cautiously opened the lid, not knowing what to expect.
"Oh, it's gorgeous!" she exclaimed. "It's the most beautiful hat I've ever seen."
"Try it on."
"I'm dying to see how it looks," she said, hunting through her purse for her compact mirror.
"Wait a minute. I have something else for you," he said taking a wrapped item out of his pocket.
When he removed the paper, he revealed a long hatpin with a dazzling emerald on the end. If Rosamond recognized it as having come from the engagement ring, she did not let on. Her greedy mind was too preoccupied with the probable cost of such a jewel.
"Hold still," Graham instructed. "I don't want to stick you with it."
She leaned forward and lowered her head, trusting him implicitly. He grabbed the sturdy hatpin in his right fist and plunged it down onto her head, piercing hat, skin and skull and embedding it into her brain. After Rosamond fell to the ground, dead, her killer disappeared into the night.
* * *
Scotland Yard never solved the case of the murdered music hall singer. Graham Catesby was never questioned in regard to Rosamond Smeaton's death, much less considered a suspect, since only two people—Hugh Stirling and Eugenia Catesby—were aware of the close connection between the killer and his victim. Immediately after the body was discovered, the former was whisked away to the continent by his parents to avoid any possible scandal being linked to the family name, and the latter would never betray her beloved son.
Graham survived the woman he loved by seven years, finally dying in his sleep after having endured kidney damage and dementia as a result of chronic erethism mercurialis. When his grieving mother cleaned out his workshop before closing the business and selling the building, she discovered in a locked closet, several dozen hats carefully stored in Catesby and Son hatboxes. All were extravagant creations made with the finest, most expensive materials available. Regardless of the decorations used, each one included a single peacock feather, and all were designed in colors made to complement a woman with red hair and green eyes.
One by one, Eugenia put the hats on the trash. Europe was in the midst of the First World War, and such pretentious headwear was a thing of the past.
Salem once tried to be a milliner. He couldn't quite get the knack of making hats.
