“Miss Allen,” Charles said in an urgent, hushed voice.
“I cannot…” Barbara shook her head, pausing for only a moment. “Not now. Meet me this evening, if you can, at our usual spot in Jackson Square.”
“I will try.” Charles nodded.
With that, Barbara hurried out of the house before the tears began to spill from her eyes. Once outside, she sobbed openly as she walked. Her feet led her further down Royal Street and she soon found herself at the rear entrance of Edward Cage’s towering mansion.
She knocked on the door and was greeted by a yellow-eyed man of small stature and a bristling disposition.
“Whatchoo want?” The man croaked.
“I’d like to see Miss Rittenhouse.”
“Folk always comin’ to the back door to see Miss Rittenhouse.” The man frowned. “Ain’t she got no high-tone friends who might use the front door like regular white folk?”
“Please,” Barbara Allen pleaded.
“Why should I?”
“What’s your name?” Barbara asked.
“Odo.” The man grinned sourly. “They call me Ty Odo.”
“Odo,” Barbara began. “I come in peace. Miss Rittenhouse and I have a shared interest in something. Someone’s life hangs in the balance. It’s imperative that I see her.”
“Fine, come in.” Odo said. “I can’t let ya go in the main house ‘til I talk with Miss Rittenhouse. You’re gonna have to wait here.”
“I will.” Barbara said. “Thank you.”
“Fine, fine.” Odo grunted as he slipped up the back staircase.
Barbara sat in the austere kitchen and wiped her eyes. She was startled by a piercing, yet, strangely warm sound which she immediately recognized. Her heart broke when she heard the baby crying. She turned to see a young black woman coming down the stairs, carrying a pink-faced baby.
“Now, now, Master Holt, I’m gonna get your supper. Don’t you go on fussin’ like that.” The girl cooed to the baby.
She stopped when she spotted Barbara in the kitchen.
“Terrible sorry, Miss.” The girl said. “I didn’t know you were in here.”
“I…” Barbara shook her head, staring at the infant—her own child.
The baby spotted Barbara and extended his arms to her as he wriggled away from the girl who carried him.
“Oh, he likes you.” The girl smiled.
“Yes.” Barbara sniffed.
“You want to hold him while I get his supper?”
Barbara was silent for a moment.
“Miss?”
“Yes,” Barbara said eagerly. “I’d like to hold him. Very much—please.”
Meanwhile, at Dr. Biamenti’s house, Charles walked slowly into Julian’s room, led by Robert.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Charles said politely. “Dr. Halifax said that you wished to see me.”
“I do.” Julian smiled. “To begin with, allow me, please, to introduce myself.”
“We’ve already met, Your Grace.” Charles smiled.
“You know quite well that we’ve not. You have been introduced to be other half—Mr. Punch. I am Julian, Duke of Fallbridge. You are aware by now, of course, that I am two men.”
“Yes, Sir.” Charles answered.
“You have no issue with this?” Julian asked.
“Of course not, Your Grace.” Charles answered.
“Is that, perhaps, because you are aware that all men have many different personalities—one way or another. Some even have different names.”
“Yes.” Charles nodded cautiously.
“I overheard you tell Mr. Punch that your real name is Carlo Iantosca.” Julian continued.
“That’s correct.” Charles blushed. “I hope that won’t be a problem. I’m quite honest, Sir. I am loyal and good at my job.”
“I have no doubt of that.” Julian responded. “Since you are so honest, Charles, allow me to ask you a question. I have an acquaintance—a rather unpleasant fellow. He’s an artist to whom I was introduced in London while I was living in Belgrave Square. A sculptor, I believe. One evening, I happened upon him in Covent Garden. He was intoxicated and typically belligerent. He pleaded with me to purchase some of his sculptures. He claimed that he needed funds quickly because he was searching for his brother who’d gone missing. I must confess that I was not especially interested in what he had to say. You see, I dislike being out in public, especially alone, and all I could think about was returning to the safety of my home. I wished him well, and went on my way without being especially helpful. The man was always so unpleasant, so I was not moved by his pleas. I didn’t think much of it, I’m afraid. You see, I was attacked and robbed that night. I hadn’t even thought of the man until now.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your attack, Sir.” Charles interrupted.
“Thank you,” Julian nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that your brother was so distraught by your absence.”
“My brother, Your Grace?”
“Giovanni Iantosca.” Julian said firmly. “The sculptor. He is your brother, isn’t he?”
Charles blushed.
“Charles?” Robert asked. “His Grace asked you a question.”
“Yes, Gentlemen.” Charles nodded. “My brother is Giovanni Iantosca. Yes, I am fleeing from him.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-191? If so, you can read them here.
4 comments:
I didn't see that coming.
And knowing this, Julian/Punch keep him around. I hope that their combined intellects are smart enough to be using Charles for their own good as well as his.
It's always a surprise. Thanks for visiting, Anonymous.
It should prove to be an interesting partnership. Have a good evening, Dashwood.
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