Punch's Cousin, Chapter 14

Arthur led Julian through passageways and down a narrow flight of metal stairs which vibrated slightly under their footsteps. The footman grasped Julian’s arm a little too tightly and Julian was reminded of a trip to London taken thirty years before when his governess held is arm with such ferocity that she left a bruise on his tender young flesh.


“Master Julian,” She had said in her sharp voice, “London is no place for a little boy. It’s dirty and angry. You must stay close.”

“But, you’re hurting me,” Young Julian had protested.

“Would you rather be snatched up and eaten alive by these people? Look at them, Master Julian! Look at them! Those hungry, hungry eyes!” She retorted, clutching him tighter. “Not a one of them would think twice about eating a little boy.”

As he and Arthur walked across the wide expanse of the Hyperion’s deck, Julian studied the eyes of those around him. They did look hungry. Perhaps “Nanny” had been correct. Everyone seemed to be staring at Julian and Arthur. Likely, they were wondering why a grown man—a man clearly a member of the peerage—was being guided by his valet like a child.

“You’re hurting me,” Julian said—partly from truth, partly from memory.

“Am I, Lord Fallbridge?” Arthur cooed, not relaxing his grip. “Only I want to see you safely to breakfast.”

Julian began to perspire despite the cool sea air and felt a cloying dampness rising under his waistcoat.

Several yards away from them on the deck, a performer had set up a portable puppet theater which immediately grabbed Julian’s attention.

“Punch.” Julian cried out.

But, no, it wasn’t Punch. The puppet’s nose was not bulbous. His costume was wrong. Children and adults all laughed and clapped—gathered in a crescent around the theater of thin wood and paper. A bright, cheerful crescent centered around the buzzing and nattering of the puppets.

Julian tugged at Arthur.

“I’d like to see the show.” Julian said softly.

“You’ll need to see Mr. Halifax, Your Lordship.” Arthur answered in a growl.

“No worries, man.” A voice said from behind them. “I’ll take His Lordship to see the program.”

Julian didn’t turn around. He knew who it was.

“As you wish, Mr. Halifax.” Arthur answered, releasing Julian from his grip.

Julian paused to tell Arthur to meet him on the deck in an hour, but the man had already gone.

“I trust I don’t need to hold on to you, Lord Fallbridge.” Robert Halifax patted Julian on his back.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Julian nodded, still fixated on the puppet theater.

“You enjoy puppets?” Mr. Halifax asked.

“Most profoundly.” Julian mumbled. “I know one quite intimately.”

“This isn’t Punch, you know?” Robert said as they walked to the show.

Julian raised an eyebrow. What did that man know of Punch?

As they drew closer, Julian realized that the language being spoken was French.

“You see, this is…” Robert Halifax began.

“Guignol.” Julian interrupted. “Yes. He’s Guignol. The other is Gnafron.”

“That’s right.” Mr. Halifax nodded. “These performers are no doubt on their way to New Orleans where they’ll perform on the streets. They set up on the decks here to get some coins to supplement their passage money. Greedy buggers these street performers.”

“Not so greedy.” Julian shook his head. “Just trying to survive.”

“Shall we go closer?” Mr. Halifax asked.

“No.” Julian answered quietly. “This will do.”

They watched the show in silence for a few moments.

“Punch’s cousin.” Julian muttered.

“Pardon me, Lord Fallbridge?”

“Guignol. He’s Punch’s cousin. From France.” Julian mumbled. “My father is in France.”

“I know.” Mr. Halifax said gently. He slipped his arm into Julian’s.

As if awake for the first time, Julian looked at Mr. Halifax with shock.

“You’re not well, Lord Fallbridge.” Mr. Halifax smiled—a peculiar smile to which Julian was not accustomed, one of sympathy.

“No.”

“Shall we go in to breakfast? We’ll have other opportunities to see the show.”

“Yes.”

“Follow me.” Mr. Halifax said, taking his arm from Julian’s.

Julian did as instructed, glad to be away from the prickling light of the sun reflected off the sea.

The dining room was opulently decorated with frescoes of rose, azure and gold which blended into bucolic scenes of ruddy-cheeked young women in diaphanous gowns. They reclined peacefully on pillows and fed bright green grapes to one another.

Julian sat in a comfortable chair upholstered in pale green damask. On the golden table cloth, a bowl of sugar cubes glistened softly.

Julian felt his bowels turn to liquid. “Master, I am lost, lost, lost, lost…in the sugar cane.”

“Pardon me?” Robert Halifax asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Julian shook his head.

“I was quite pleased that you agreed to join me this morning, Lord Fallbridge.”

“I didn’t.” Julian narrowed his eyes.

“But, I received your note.”

“My note.” Julian’s heart raced.

“Would you prefer to go somewhere more private?”

Julian didn’t answer. Yes, he would prefer to go somewhere more private, but not with Mr. Halifax.

“No. I’m quite fine.” Julian answered.

“Your blue becomes you.” Mr. Halifax smiled again. “Much more so than your usual gray. And, that ring is most handsome. It’s not a sapphire.”

“No.” Julian shook his head. He swallowed hard.

“Your Lordship, Lady Barbara is in danger.” Mr. Halifax said in a hushed voice.

“How do you know this?” Julian said. “What do you know about this woman…this Iolanthe Evangeline. You say she’s called ‘The Elegant Ogress.’ Do you know her?”

“I do.”

“How?”

“I’d rather not say just yet.”

“Well, then, how do you hope to help me?” Julian felt the sweat trickle down his neck.

“I can tell you that she seeks out the most beautiful women in the world to work in her…establishment. She has people in every country who, shall we say, procure for her. She was told of your sister’s beauty and, oh, her passionate spirit. Of course, Iolanthe wanted Lady Barbara for her own.”

“Why?” Julian swallowed again. “Why would Barbara agree to such a thing? She’s a Lady. She was set to make a suitable marriage. She…”

“She’s a ruined woman, Sir.” Mr. Halifax answered. “I delivered her child myself.”

“Her…child?” The room spun around Julian. “You’re mistaken.”

“A boy. She calls him Caleb.”

“My sister was not with child. She couldn’t have been!”

“Yes, Lord Fallbridge. She was.”

Julian laughed a cold and hollow chortle though he wasn’t sure why.

“Who is the father?” He asked.

“That I do not know.” Mr. Halifax responded.

“How? How could she have hidden it?” Julian’s mind flooded with pictures of Barbara from the last few weeks. He’d seen so little of her, having so infrequently left his rooms.

Picture after picture burst into Julian’s thoughts—colors upon colors until they bled into black…a sweet, welcome blackness like a cozy blanket.

Some power inside Julian made him rise from the table. He opened his mouth and allowed words that were not his own to pour forth.

"If on your deathbed you do lie
What needs the tale you're tellin'?
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell," said Barbara Allen.

The others in the dining room turned to look at Julian.

“Lord Fallbridge?” Mr. Halifax rose. “Please, be seated. Let’s take breakfast.”

“No.” Julian shook his head. “I want to see Guignol. I want to see my cousin.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-13?  If so, you can read them here.