“Come on, then.” Arthur grinned—his slick yellow teeth making Marjani look away. “Show us a little Christian charity, what.”
“Ain’t got no charity for the likes of you. Besides, this place is under quarantine. Don’t want the Yellow Fever, do ya?”
Arthur frowned. “Just because you’re thick with barmy Lord Fallbridge and his ‘chum,’ you ain’t gonna even offer me a helpin’ hand.”
“I’ll give you my hand.” Marjani said, raising her arm high above her head.
“Fine, then.” Arthur grinned. “I know when I’m not welcome.”
“And, if I ever catch you sniffin’ ‘round this child again, I’ll make it so you got nothin’ but a hole where your nose oughta be.” Marjani shouted.
“Say, I could like you.” Arthur winked. “Fancy havin’ a bit of whiskey with me?”
“Git!” Marjani bellowed.
Arthur laughed and left the shack.
Marjani hurried over to Columbia and knelt down beside her granddaughter. “Now, chil’ if you see that man comin, you jus’ run the other way. You hear?”
Columbia nodded. “Can I see Mama and Papa now?”
“No, Honey. Ya can’t.”
“I just wanna give ‘em a kiss for Christmas.” Columbia lowered her head.
“I’ll give it to ‘em for ya, Honey.” Marjani said softly. “See, your mama and papa, they’re sick and the sickness they got, it’s very catchin’. I can’t have you getting’ sick on me, too. Now, can I? Who would help me feed the pups and grind the stones for my colors.”
“Can I help with the colors tonight?” Columbia asked.
“Yes, Chil’, you can. We’re gonna mix up a big buncha colors. See, we’re gonna have to dye whole bunches of cloth next year. The ladies are wearin’ all their best dresses to the big ball in New Orleans when the year changes. Well, you know, after that, they’re all gonna want new gowns cuz folk done already seen ‘em in the ones they got already.” Marjani said.
“I’ll help.” Columbia nodded. “We gonna make them ladies pretty.”
“That’s right, Columbia.” Marjani continued to force herself to smile. “But, you can only do that if you don’t get sick. So, let me give kisses to your mama and papa for you and you run ‘long back to my place. I’ll tell ‘em both that you love them.”
“Will you get sick, Grandmama?” Columbia asked.
“Me?” Marjani faked a laugh. “Honey, you know your grandmamma. Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna get me sick. Now, go on. See if them pups are wantin’ their supper.”
“I love you, Grandmama.” Columbia hugged her grandmother.
“Oh, I love you, too, my lamb.” Marjani squeezed the girl. Tears welled up in her eyes. She broke the hug and turned away. “Now, go on.”
Marjani listened until she heard the door to the shack close, and, then, she wept bitterly.
At that very moment, Arthur wandered lazily through the sugar cane, grabbing at it with his dirty hands as he walked along and hummed.
He was shocked when he heard a hissing from the cane and thought he’d stumbled upon a snake.
“Oh, it’s you,” Arthur sighed as Barbara Allen approached him.
“Is that how you greet your wife?” Barbara asked.
“It is when she’s dressed like that.” Arthur frowned. “With all them fine clothes that girl’s got, you’d think she could have given you something decent to wear.”
“I don’t dare ask Ulrika for anything else. Haven’t I already paid her enough?”
“I don’t mind.” Arthur grinned. “It’s not bad work.”
Barbara put her hands around Arthur’s throat and squeezed.
Arthur continued to smile. “Jealous?” He gasped. “Don’t you think I will be when you get to work tomorrow?”
“No.” Barbara released her husband’s neck. “Frankly, I don’t.”
“So, then, pet, any luck?” Arthur asked, rubbing his throat.
“No. I can’t get near the place. Mr. Rittenhouse has a whole army of men cleaning up the debris. What about you? Did you get anything to eat?”
“Not a morsel.” Arthur laughed.
“Is this amusing to you?” Barbara shook her head.
“It rather is, Barb’ry Allen.” Arthur continued to walk along, humming. Barbara chased after him.
“Listen to me,” Barbara whispered fiercely. “We’re leaving for New Orleans when it gets dark. If I don’t have something to eat before then I’m going to die.”
“They already all think you’re dead anyway—just like they done me.” Arthur shrugged.
“If I die, you will, too. You need me. I’m you’re sole supporter. You should count yourself very fortunate that I forgave you for leaving me in that blaze.”
“I do, pet, I do.” Arthur winked. “Want us to show you our gratitude?”
“No.” Barbara frowned. “I can still smell Ulrika on you.”
“Least she’s got food.”
“Fine lot of help you are,” Barbara grumbled.
“You know who’d love to help ya?” Arthur smirked. “Your loony brother. He’d be ever-so-pleased to see you alive. I fancy he’d even give you a few shillings.”
“And force me to go home.” Barbara narrowed her eyes.
“No.” Arthur shrugged. “Don’t have to be that way. We can still go off as we planned. Just let him think you’ve reformed your wicked ways. Get what you can, then, tonight slip out.” Arthur pointed down the red hill to Cecil and Adrienne’s house. “Think of him and his companion all nice and warm in that big, yellow house. Think of the diamonds on his fingers—then. Think of him stuffin’ his skinny face with food and talkin’ in strange voices and bein’ all wild and understanding all at once. Don’t you hate him? Think what that hate can get us.”
“He’d never accept you in that house.”
“Tell ‘im I’m gone—abandonned you.” Arthur winked. “He’d believe. Just picture it, Pet, your barmy brother—the grand Lord Fallbridge—thrilled to have his wayward sister back in the family bosom at last. Then, think of the pain he’ll feel when he awakens on Christmas morning to find you’ve gone!” Arthur laughed.
“What about his companion?” Barbara asked. “That butcher is no fool. He has no sentiment when it comes to me. He’d not believe a word of it. Julian is very much in that man’s control, you know. He’s not going to do anything unless the doctor approves of it. Furthermore, what if Julian’s playing one of his games? He’s not terribly reasonable when he’s putting on his little charade with the rough voice and manner.”
“Isn’t it better than freezing and starving for the next few hours?” Arthur smiled.
“And, what will you do?” Barbara asked.
“Oh, I got somewhere to go.” Arthur smiled.
Barbara looked away. “I’m sure that you do.”
Meanwhile, Julian was cuddled up in bed with Toby who snored in the sweet way that only a dog can snore.
“I do like him.” Julian grinned.
“So does Mr. Punch.” Robert nodded from the soft upholstered chair where he sat. “You’re looking better, I must say.”
“I’m feeling better.” Julian answered. “These burns still hurt like the devil. Do we have any more of that salve?”
“Yes.” Robert said, “But let’s wait a bit. I’ve only just put some on.”
“Very well.” Julian sighed.
A faint knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
“It is I.” Adrienne said through the door.
“Enter,” Robert smiled.
Adrienne came into the room. She looked pale and worried.
“Is something wrong?” Robert asked.
“A visitor has come to the rear door. Someone for Lord Fallbridge.” Adrienne explained.
“A visitor for me?” Julian sat up. “Who on Earth would wish to see me? I don’t know anyone here except for the people in this house and the Rittenhouses. And, I know that Mrs. Rittenhouse would not want to visit with me.”
“Julian,” Adrienne said softly. “It’s your sister.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-83? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday, November 1 for Chapter 85 of Punch’s Cousin.
4 comments:
I have to say that it would in order for Punch to awaken just for a brief moment and take the very logical action of hitting Barbara with a stick.
Maybe he could give Arthur a wack too.
I'm really enjoying this story, the characters are so vivid.
I agree with you, Dashwood. I think Mr. Punch should whack her with his slapstick--or, better yet, a brick. However, he's gotten too rational for that. Or has he?
Thanks, Darcy! We can add Arthur to the slapstick-list.
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