“We shouldn’t be here.” Barbara whispered. “Your mother and father are downstairs with the children. They almost spotted me. Don’t you understand? They think I’m dead.”
“They’ll find out soon enough that you’re not dead.” Ulrika laughed. “I know you were with your lunatic brother. Don’t you think that the little French woman is going to mention to Mother that you were in her home? Our servants are already talking about how that wicked Barbara Allen is rumored to have stolen some expensive silver from the Halifaxes. You know how subordinates talk…”
“I still shouldn’t be here.” Barbara frowned. “Iolanthe is expecting me.”
“She can wait.” Ulrika spat. “She may own your body, but I own your soul.”
“The only thing of mine that you have possession of is my diamond!” Barbara snarled.
“Pet, please.” Arthur grabbed Barbara by the wrist.
“So, you told your whore bride that I have the diamond?” Ulrika smirked. “Arthur, I knew you would. You don’t really think that I trusted you?”
“I had to tell ‘er.” Arthur said defiantly.
“Did you tell her how important it is to me to see that she and her daft sibling live no longer?”
“Why?” Barbara asked angrily.
“You signed your life away to me. Remember? We have an arrangement. As my maid, any of your property reverts to me upon your death as long as you have no living family. Who remains? Your father is dead—murdered because of your careless intimacy with that ogress. Who else? Just loony Lord Julian.”
“My mother.” Barbara said. “She is alive and well.”
“Are you so sure?” Ulrika grinned. “Can you be certain that the Duchess of Fallbridge isn’t slumped over her Christmas pudding as we speak?”
Barbara lunged toward Ulrika, but Arthur held her back.
“Let her at me,” Ulrika rose from her chair. “She’d regret it if she came near me.”
Ulrika looked at Nanny Rittenhouse. “Agnes, cousin, get the box.”
Agnes walked to the chiffarobe and retrieved a small silver box from the lowest drawer. She handed it to Ulrika who opened it and removed two small pieces of some organic material—a woody substance of yellowish green.
“I want you both to chew on this.” Ulrika said.
“No.” Barbara struggled to break free of Arthur’s grasp. “Why should we?”
Ulrika laughed and sat down in her chair again, removing a pistol from behind the cushion which leaned against the arm of the chair.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you both in the heart.” Ulrika smiled. “Nanny, dear, didn’t these two monsters break into our house to try to steal from us as they did from Mr. and Mrs. Halifax?”
“Yes, Miss, they did.” The Nanny nodded her head.
“That’s all I’d have to say.” Ulrika wagged the pistol at them. She rose from the chair and extended her left hand, offering the hunks of foul-smelling wood to them.
“What is it?” Arthur asked.
“It’s a root.” Ulrika said. “St. Dymphna’s Root—very powerful. Chew on it.” Ulrika’s eyes widened. “Take it!”
Arthur took a piece and forced it into Barbara’s mouth. He put the other in his own mouth.
“Now, you, Agnes.” Ulrika grinned. “Leave us.”
“Yes, Miss.” Agnes nodded.
“I want you to take this note to The Halifax House.” Ulrika handed a folded page to the nanny.
“They won’t let me in again, Miss Ulrika.” Agnes shook her head.
“Find a way!” Ulrika snapped. “Take it to Lord Fallbridge’s room and leave it somewhere out of sight. And, be quick about it!”
“Yes, Miss.” Agnes said, taking the page and hurrying from the room.
“I want the two of you to sit on the bed.” Ulrika motioned to the bed with the pistol.
“This tastes vile.” Barbara said.
“It won’t for long.” Ulika winked. “Soon, you’ll grow to like it.”
Meanwhile, down the red hill, Mr. Punch lay sprawled out on the floor in the parlor of the Halifax house. His new puppet lay across his stomach. On his right, Toby nestled against his master and on his left, Fuller lay with his head on Julian’s arm.
“You’re quite popular, Mr. Punch.” Robert smiled at his friend.
Mr. Punch nodded. “Never thought I’d have a day like this one.”
“Nor I.” Robert sighed. “We’ve weathered quite a lot, haven’t we, Punch?”
“Sure.” Mr. Punch answered.
“Here, we got all this happiness. So many other people don’t.” Mr. Punch said.
“True. We should count our blessings.”
“Don’t like to count.” Mr. Punch grunted.
“It’s a figure of…” Robert shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. We won’t count anything. We’ll just enjoy the moment.”
“Chum,” Mr. Punch began. “You know how you humans like to worry ‘bout things?”
“Yes.” Robert chuckled.
“Well, I got a worry, I do. Least, I think that’s what it is.”
“You’re worried about Barbara and Arthur?”
“Well, I ‘spose. And, that Iolanthe woman, too. And, ‘bout that poor child what’s in the Cages’ house. ‘Spose I got a lot of worries. Only none o’ them are what I were just thinkin’ ‘bout.”
“What were you thinking about, dear Punch?”
“Marjani.” Mr. Punch said, careful not to move so as not to disturb neither dog nor baby. “She’s been so kind to us, but she’s sufferin’ awful what with her daughter and her daughter’s husband bein’ so sick.”
“Naasir was just there yesterday with our gifts.” Robert said. “She knows we’re thinking of her. Sadly, there’s not much we can do to help her. I’m afraid that the illness that they have isn’t curable.”
“I don’t understand why that’s gotta be so. Seems to me that if a person’s sick, he oughta get better like what you did.”
“My illness, though serious, wasn’t as grave as the fever Marjani’s family has contracted.” Robert explained.
“Just ain’t right.” Mr. Punch frowned.
“No, dear Punch. It isn’t.” Robert nodded.
Mr. Punch sighed. “Here, when are Adrienne and Cecil comin’ back?”
“Soon, I’m sure. They’ve just gone to give their gifts to the staff. Apparently, they don’t keep the tradition of Boxing Day around here.” Robert responded.
“Good, cuz, I think Toby and Fuller want to sing more songs and we need Adrienne to play the piano.”
“Is that so?” Robert laughed. “And, they told you this?”
“Yep.” Mr. Punch grinned. “You oughta know by now that somethin’ don’t have to talk to say somethin’.”
“Just one of many things I’ve learned from you.”
Mr. Punch sniffed the air. He wrinkled Julian’s nose.
“What is it? Does Fuller need some attention? Babies do that, you know.”
“No.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Ain’t that. I smell rotten roses. You know who smells like that…”
“I do.” Robert stood up. “Stay here with the baby.”
“Where you goin’?” Mr. Punch asked.
“If that woman is in this house, I’m going to make sure that she leaves.” Robert said firmly.
Robert followed the scent of old rose water toward the back staircase. He spotted a flicker of lavender fabric and heard light footsteps on the stairs.
“She is here.” Robert muttered to himself, racing up the stairs.
Several minutes passed. Mr. Punch lay on the floor motionless with Fuller and Toby. He strained to hear if Robert was safe.
He heard footsteps walk into the parlor—a woman’s footsteps. He didn’t smell the nanny’s scent, so when he looked up, he expected to see Adrienne standing over him.
“Lady Chum,” Mr. Punch began. “I think that nanny has…” He paused.
“Hello, lunatic.” Iolanthe Evangeline smiled, looming over Mr. Punch and his charges. “Merry Christmas.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-95? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday, November 15 for Chapter 97 of Punch’s Cousin.
4 comments:
The evil people in Marioneaux seem to drift in and out of places like the fog off the bayou. A misty day in New Orleans can make you see how that could happen.
It's nice, though, that Robert and Punch can take some moments of happiness with Fuller and Toby in between.
They're all particularly brazen about it, too. I like your imagery, Dashwood. Thanks!
I think that Iolanthe Evangeline has met her match in Mr. Punch. He'll do just about anything to protect his new found family.
You're quite right, Darcy!
Post a Comment