Punch's Cousin, Chapter 70

Robert awoke and slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, the room was unfamiliar to him and he felt a sense of dread wash over his fatigued body. He shut his eyes again and thought. “Where I am?” Opening his eyes again he took in his surroundings. The room was papered in a pattern of red flowers on a taupe background, heavy walnut moldings surrounded the doors and windows. A fire was dying in the shockingly white marble hearth. Red flowers—red, the color of the earth on that hill. Robert slowly began to remember where he was and how he’d gotten there.


“Julian must experience this every time he awakens from Mr. Punch.” Robert thought to himself. “What a terrible feeling it must be.”

Robert breathed in, as deeply as he could without coughing. He was able to take in more air than he had the previous day, but he could still feel the fluid in his chest. He shivered slightly and attempted to pull the blankets further to his chin. He found, however, that there was resistance as if they were weighted down.

He sat up slightly and squinted into the dim light which crept in through the narrow openings in the thick, velvet curtains which shut the daylight from the room. At the foot of his bed, he saw Julian—or was it Mr. Punch—curled up in a ball near his feet. Robert smiled. “It’s Punch.” He gazed at the sleeping figure, knees pulled up to his chest, looking for all the world like a loyal dog slumbering obediently at the feet of his master.

“Punch,” Robert whispered.

“Sleepin’” Mr. Punch mumbled.

Robert laughed before coughing a little. “Dear Punch, it’s morning.”

“Here,” Punch yawned, scrunching up Julian’s face. He sat up and grinned. “You don’t look so sickly today.”

“I think I’m feeling a little better.” Robert nodded.

“Ya think?” Mr. Punch grunted. “Either you’re feelin’ better or ya ain’t. Doesn’t do no good thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“I’m feeling a little better, then. I know it.” Robert smiled. “In fact, I’m a trifle hungry.”

“Coo!” Mr. Punch whooped. “Naasir brought some vittles.” Mr. Punch leapt from the bed and hurried over to the tray Naasir had left the previous evening. “Only they’re cold, I’d ‘spose. Betcha’d be wantin’ fresh.”

“Probably.” Robert smiled.

“Broth it was,” Mr. Punch muttered. “Now, it rubbish. Say, I’m hungry me-self.”

The door to the room rattled. And, then, someone knocked softly.

“Lord Fallbridge?” Naasir whispered through the door.

“Come in,” Mr. Punch smiled, glad to hear the man’s voice.

“It’s locked, Sir.” Naasir said.

“Right.” Mr. Punch grunted. He looked at Robert. “Had a visitor, we did. That barmy girl what’s got the red hair and frightening eyes. Got a neck like a bloke, that one. Wide shoulders, too. Don’t like her. Locked her out so she wouldn’t come and pester us no more.”

“I think we can let Naasir in.” Robert smiled.

“That we can.” Punch said, hurrying to the door and unlatching it.

“I’ve brought some breakfast for you, Sir.” Naasir grinned despite his tired voice. “Some fine boiled eggs and streaky bacon for you, Mr. Punch and some good hot mutton broth for the doctor.”

“Fine!” Punch licked his lips.

“How are you feeling today, Dr. Halifax?”

“A mite stronger, Naasir.” Robert answered.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Naasir nodded.

Mr. Punch hungrily grabbed a fistful of bacon from the tray and greedily shoved it in his mouth. With his mouth still full he commented. “What’dya think, chum, maybe in a day or two, we can get outta this place and go back to Adrienne and Cecil’s what’s got the baby and all them lovely heads?”

“Let’s hope so.” Robert nodded as Naasir helped him sit up.

“Right!” Mr. Punch whooped. “That’s the way to do it.” He winked at Naasir. “Sorry, foreign chum, ‘bout lockin’ you out only we had that girl in here and I don’t like her much. Had to keep her out.”

“You mean Miss Ulrika, Sir.” Naasir chuckled. “She’s quite…unusual.”

“I’d say.” Punch nodded Julian’s head. He picked up and egg and studied it. “Here, it’s hard. Can’t eat that.”

Naasir politely took the egg from Mr. Punch and placed it back in the cup; he very carefully tapped the egg and removed the top. “I believe one is meant to eat the soft insides from the shell.”

“Interestin’.” Punch grunted, taking a spoon from the tray.

“Naasir, before I eat,” Robert said, “I wouldn’t mind changing into a fresh dressing gown.”

“Of course,” Naasir said. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing some of your things over from Mr. and Mrs. Halifax’s place.” He walked to the wardrobe and retrieved a dressing gown and nightshirt for Robert. He helped Robert undress while Mr. Punch happily ate his egg.

“Say, this is good.” Mr. Punch grinned.

“Surely, you’ve had eggs before, Mr. Punch.” Robert said, shivering as the cool air of the room hit his skin.

“Probably. Only Julian does most of the eatin’ and he don’t eat too much. Kind of like it, I do.”

“Good to know.” Robert laughed.

Little did they know that from outside their door, someone was watching their cozy domestic scene.

Ulrika smacked her lips hungrily as she watched through the key hole. “The doctor’s not bad lookin’ either.” She whispered.

“He’s a butcher.” Barbara hissed in Ulrika’s ear. “What are they doing?”

“Your brother is eating with the manners of a field hand. He keeps referring to himself in the third person and the others call him ‘Mr. Punch.’” Ulrika whispered.

“That’s one of Julian’s little games. It’s all part of his madness.” Barbara hissed.

“Looking like that, he can be as mad as he wants.” Ulrika smiled.

“Keep your voice down.” Barbara growled softly. “You don’t want me to take back what we gave you, do you?”

Ulrika looked up and smiled. “Barbara, you can’t take it all back. Some things can’t be taken back.”

Barbara grabbed Ulrika by her hair and clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth. “Yes, they can.” She whispered fiercely.

Ulrika bit Barbara’s hand, and she withdrew it quickly, wincing. Ulrika gazed at Barbara viciously. “Don’t try my patience.” She whispered.

“Don’t try mine.” Barbara responded. “Come on, then. And, remember, do as you’ve been told.”

Ulrika rose to her feet and opened the door—walking brazenly into the room.

“Bullox.” Punch spat.

“I thought I’d see how our guests were doing.” Ulrika grinned. “My maid will tend to the fire. It’s so chilly in here. We wouldn’t want anyone to catch their death, would we?” She winked at Robert.

Punch slammed Julian’s fist against the table. “What kind of thing is that to say to a man what’s been so sick?”

“Really, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Ulrika cooed. “Did you both sleep well?”

“Once I locked you out, I did.” Mr. Punch grumbled.

“Lord Fallbridge,” Ulrika said, “Dr. Halifax, you know we have a big occasion on the horizon. Each year Edward and Corliss Cage hold a fantastic ball at their waxworks in New Orleans to mark the changing of the year. I’d like to invite both of you as guests of the Rittenhouse family. Of course, Dr. Halifax, your brother and his little French wife will be in attendance. After all, they’re going to unveil some of his sculptures at the museum.”

“We’re only goin’ back to New Orleans to get on a ship to go home.” Mr. Punch said. “And, when we do go, we aim to take back with us what we came for.” He narrowed Julian’s eyes at Barbara.

“How curiously you look at my maid.” Ulrika tittered.

“You know somethin’ you shouldn’t oughtta know.” Mr. Punch glared.

“Whatever could you mean?” Ulrika sighed. “Now, can I count on the two of you to come as our guests?”

“Already told ya, we ain’t goin’ to no ball. We’re gonna get on a ship, we are, and go back to England where we live. Don’t like it here.”

“We’d be delighted to attend,” Robert rasped. “Providing I’m well enough to go.”

“Here! Are you barmy, Chum?” Mr. Punch asked.

“No, Julian.” Robert said the name pointedly. “It would simply be impolite to refuse such a kind invitation. Besides, I would be interested in seeing my brother’s work on display.”

“Huh.” Punch grunted.

“I’m so pleased.” Ulrika smiled. “Come, Barbara, you can help me with my hair.”

With that, Barbara and Ulrika left the room.

Naasir locked the door behind them. “Might I suggest, Mr. Punch, that you hear the doctor out before you react?”

Mr. Punch frowned and hunched Julian’s shoulders. “Chum,” he said slowly to Robert. “Love you, I do, but I think you’re talkin’ out of fever. We ain’t goin’ to no ball!”

“Of course we are.” Robert coughed. “It’s the only way to get what we’ve come for. And, it’s the perfect way to make sure The Elegant Ogress is silenced forever.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-69? If so, you can read them here.