Punch's Cousin, Chapter 26

As is its habit, time trod on—sometimes on soft tiptoes, sometimes tromping over brittle, weary souls. The Hyperion cut through waters both angry and relenting. The passage of nine days saw Julian and Robert grow hesitantly closer—the one man fearful of everything, the other, fearful of himself.


Robert was able to tell when Punch would be making an appearance, and he tried his best to ensure that his dealings were mostly with Julian. Lord Fallbridge rarely left his cabin, preferring to take his meals in the safety of the small room. Robert always joined him. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would sit in silence. Yet, they were together, and Julian was growing to depend on the doctor—always wondering if they’d met before, but never quite sure that they hadn’t.

Arthur had fallen into a pattern, showing up at exactly the same times each day. He would come to the cabin to fulfill his duties as valet, often smelling of gin, other times smelling of desiccated roses—always with his amber smile and an obsequious bow. Julian was strangely still and submissive around Arthur, prompting Robert to do most of the talking. Soon, Arthur’s contempt for the doctor grew palpable and Robert knew that, in time, the footman’s rage would boil over in a scalding froth which would burn all of them.

Unaccustomed to gentleness, Julian continued to be reserved with Dr. Halifax. He never requested the man’s presence, but always knew he could rely on it. He infrequently offered any information of his own. They did not speak of Barbara, they never talked of “The Elegant Ogress,” or Louisiana or anything related to the darkness which hung over them on threadbare twine which could snap at any moment. When they did speak, they conversed about art, about museums and music—the present and nothing more.

When the ocean reflected the blackness of night, Robert would retreat to his cabin, hoping that the following morning he would be greeted at the door by Julian and not Punch. Together, they did well, until the tenth day…

Robert knocked on the cabin door. There was no answer. He waited, and knocked again.

Finally, Arthur opened the door. His yellowed eyes were ringed in weary pink, the lids drooped lazily, yet his smile was golden and bright.

“His Lordship isn’t here, Sir.” Arthur beamed.

“Where is he?” Robert asked.

“Gone out for some sun, I ‘spect.” Arthur flashed his grin.

“You let him go on deck unattended?” Robert demanded.

“Who am I, Sir, to tell His Lordship what to do? If my master wishes to take some air, I can’t think of a reason why he shouldn’t.”

Robert bounded into the room and looked around. The bed was unmade and on the writing table, paper had been shredded—strewn about like jagged snowflakes.

“What’s that?” Robert asked, pointing to the desk.

“Dunno.” Arthur shrugged. “Only we had a letter from Her Grace which I had delivered to His Lordship. Picked it up when we docked, you know.”

“How exactly was the Duchess of Fallbridge able to get a letter to her son?”

“How should I know, Sir?” Arthur bared his teeth. “Only I picked it up when we docked. Who’s to say how our betters do things? Mine is only to do what I’m told.”

Robert shook his head and walked toward the cabin door. “Never! Never, let Lord Fallbridge leave this cabin without me again!”

“Begging your pardon, Sir, but I take my orders from His Lordship, and him only.” Arthur smiled.

“Tidy this room!” Robert spat as he headed out into the passage.

He found Julian on deck amidst a small crowd of people watching the French puppeteers perform a Guignol show.

Robert could deduce by the hoots and cheers coming from Julian’s mouth that Punch was present. He braced himself for the encounter.

“Mr. Punch,” Robert whispered into Julian’s ear.

“Oh, it’s the doctor.” Punch winked. “Come to watch my cousin, have you?”

“I’ve come to find you.” Robert answered.

“Well, here I am.” Punch laughed. “Look at ‘im. Got a hand up his back—the lucky devil!” Punch pointed Julian’s finger at the puppet. “Don’t have to think for himself, that one.” Punch hooted, “Bloody, lucky fool!”

The others in the crowd guffawed.

“Mr. Punch, wouldn’t you like to return to the cabin?”

“No, Doctor, I would not.” Punch frowned. “I want to talk with my cousin.”

“About?”

“Julian got a letter today. Seems our father is dead. Killed in France by a thief. Cut his throat and took the jewels what he just bought from some bloke. I want to see what Guignol knows about it.”

Robert blanched and stood blankly for a moment.

“Sir Collin Molliner is dead?” Robert asked after a time.

“Looks like.” Punch answered angrily. “Whore of a sister has gone off to America, Father is dead, Julian’s mother is what she is. The man’s got nothin’ but me now, and I aim to take control of the situation, you see.”

“Mr. Punch, you are not the only person Lord Julian has. He has me.”

“Lot of good you are! Look at me—my head split open, right down the middle. Did you mend it? No!”

“Mr. Punch,” Robert whispered, “Your head may be split, but Julian’s isn’t. Right now, you inhabit his body. There’s nothing for me to fix.”

“Leave us alone, there’s a pet.” Punch hissed.

“I can’t do that.” Robert shook his head.

“You’re just as bad as she is.” Punch grumbled.

“Who?”

“That Nanny what smells like roses. Me mother!” Punch answered. “She was all palms and fingertips just now—grabbing and begging. ‘Come with me, Lord Julian.’ Sow’s just lucky I didn’t push her into the sea. Only I couldn’t with all these people starin’, starin’. But, she’ll get hers—right after I see my cousin.” Punch widened Julian’s eyes. “Which I aim to do presently.”

Punch propelled Julian’s body through the crowd and directly for the collapsible puppet stage. With one swift motion, Punch grabbed the Guignol puppet from the hand of the performer and held it aloft.

“Come with me, Cousin!” Punch screamed. “You’re gonna answer me some questions, and, then we’ll hack our way through the sugar cane together!”

Did you miss Chapters 1-25?  If so, you can read them here.