A cheer erupted from the ever-growing crowd in the ballroom.
“It is with great pleasure tonight that I welcome you to the finest, grandest waxworks in the world! Those English have got nothin’ on us!”
“Yes,” Robert whispered to Mr. Punch. “I’m sure Madame Tussaud’s on Baker Street will hurry to shut their doors forever when word of Edward Cage’s Louisiana Wax Museum reaches her.”
Mr. Punch chuckled.
“But, there’s more to be proud of in New Orleans than just my glorious museum,” Edward droned on. “There’s all of you—the finest and the best. That’s why you’re here tonight. My beautiful wife, Corliss,” He gestured toward Corliss who stood precariously next to him, looking as if she might topple from fatigue at any moment, “and I have invited you all to join us in welcoming 1853 because you’re the best people in the city! So, drink of my wine and eat of my food and make sure to see the new works of our famed sculptor, Cecil Halifax. Cecil,” He scanned the crowd, “Cecil…are you here?”
The room buzzed with murmurs.
“Looks like he’s not arrived yet. You know artists—always wantin’’ to make an entrance. We do have someone special here tonight. All the way from Merry Ol’ England—a real Royal fella.”
Mr. Punch clutched Robert’s arm. “He don’t mean me do he?”
“I suspect so,” Robert whispered. “So much for being inconspicuous.”
“He’s traveled a long way, and we’re honored to have him—His Grace, The Duke of Fallbridge.” Edward said proudly. “Over there, dressed as Mr. Punch from the puppet shows.”
Mr. Punch looked to the floor.
“Smile, dear Punch.” Robert hissed through his teeth.
Mr. Punch looked up and grinned as wide as he could—looking slightly more demented than glad to be there.
“Would you like to say a few words to these kind folks, Your Grace?”
“Not ‘specially.” Mr. Punch whispered.
“I think you’d better,” Robert smiled, guiding Mr. Punch toward the platform where Corliss and Edward were standing.
Mr. Punch looked out at the crowd in their fancy dress and took a deep breath. Speaking in Julian’s voice, he began, “It is, indeed, with great joy that I look out upon all of you this evening. Mr. Cage is correct, my companion and I have travelled quite a long distance. Little did we know that we would be met with such…” he paused. “Passionate, interesting and intelligent people such as yourselves. New Orleans has proven to be a magical place, indeed. And, when I return to London, I shall always remember the color, pageantry and gaiety that I’ve seen demonstrated in this remarkable city. With the utmost sincerity, I wish all of you the happiest of years.”
The crowd applauded and Mr. Punch hurried off of the platform.
“Well played, my dear.” Robert whispered in Punch’s ear. “That’s the way to do it.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Edward Cage spoke up. “With that, I invite all of you to enjoy yourselves. Later in the evening, we’ll have a contest to see whose costume is the best. Perhaps His Grace will w in.”
“Fifteen minutes ago, he was callin’ me a ‘wild man,’ now he’s full of praise.’” Mr. Punch whispered.
“When he realized that the papers will recount that the Duke of Fallbridge was here tonight, he realized that he could advertise this place as hosting English nobility.” Robert sighed.
“The winner of our contest will win a very special prize.” Edward said to everyone. “So, let’s enjoy ourselves! And, Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year,” everyone shouted in response.
“Still no sign of Iolanthe Evangeline.” Robert mumbled.
“Cecil and Adrienne gotta be cold waitin out there in the carriage.” Mr. Punch grumbled, heading toward the window.
“Wait,” Robert said, taking Julian’s arm. “Look over there.”
Punch turned toward the entrance to see a woman enter. Despite her mask and short blonde wig, Punch could tell immediately that it was Iolanthe Evangeline. She was dressed as St. Joan—in a flowing white gown—tied about the waist with thick ropes. She carried a shield upon which a crest had been painted. The crest was divided into four quadrants. The first quadrant depicted fire; the second, a diamond; the third, a fleur-de-lis and; the fourth, a pair of angel’s wings—but instead of white feathers, they were violet and purple.
“Joan d’Arc,” Robert grunted. “When it’s she who is burning people.”
Mr. Punch hurried to the window and moved the candelabra to the left to signal to Cecil and Adrienne that Iolanthe had arrived. He paused at the window to see the pair descend from the carriage.
“They’re comin’.” Mr. Punch whispered to Robert.
“Let it begin,” Robert sighed.
Did you miss Chapters 1-142? If so, you can read them here.
4 comments:
I was proud of the way Punch handled the embarassing way that he was called attention to. Well done as always.
I agree with both Robert and Book Gurl. "That's the way to do it", Mr. Punch!
Hi Book Gurl, thanks for stopping by!
Hello, Darcy, Mr. Punch has gotten to be quite good under pressure! Thanks for reading!
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