Punch's Cousin, Chapter 251

Robert burst into the flat above the Routhe’s Dress shop. His face was pale and his was visibly shaking.


“Mon Dieu!” Adrienne gasped as she saw Robert’s hands—red with blood.

“Doctor, what’s happened?” Marjani rushed forward, followed by Charles.

“I…” Robert stammered.

“Has he harmed you?” Charles asked.

“No.” Robert shook his head stiffly. “I stabbed him. I stabbed your brother.”

At that very moment, Ulrika Rittenhouse sank to the floor of her bedroom in Edward Cage’s Royal Street Mansion.

“That’s it, Pet. Get on the floor like the bitch that you are.” Arthur laughed as he bent over Ulrika’s nude body.

Ulrika tried to speak, but found that the words would not come out of her throat. Her thoughts became muddy and she looked up at Arthur helplessly.

“Now, then,” Arthur said in an even tone as he put on his pants and boots. “You’re gonna do what I say for a change, aren’t ya?”

Ulrika drooled on herself and on the floor as she tried to speak.

“First of all, Pet, where’s the diamond?”

Arthur reached forward and grabbed Ulrika’s titian locks, jerking her head towards his. “You’re gonna tell me where you put that very lovely rock.”

Meanwhile, in Mr. Punch’s bedroom in Dr. Biamenti’s house, Cecil splashed water on the face of his friend.

“Mr. Punch?” Cecil whispered as the body shared by Mr. Punch and Julian finally stopped quaking. “Your Grace? Julian?” Cecil was unsure what to do or say. Robert usually handled Mr. Punch/Julian and knew what to look for when a shift in personality was about to happen. Cecil didn’t know who would awaken from that strange, rigid tremor.

The face of his friend once again became animated and the eyes fluttered open.

“Mr. Punch?” Cecil repeated.

“Hardly,” An unfamiliar voice responded from that very familiar face.

“Ah, Your Grace.” Cecil sighed.

“Hardly,”

“Pardon me?” Cecil asked. “You’re confused. You’ve had some sort of…episode.”

“Oh, ay.” Julian’s body sat up and grinned. “I’ve had an episode, all right. But, I’m most assuredly not Mr. Punch—the rogue. Nor am I that simpering Duke of Fallbridge.”

“Oh dear.” Cecil whispered.

“Don’t you wish to know who I am?”

“I suppose I must,” Cecil grunted.

“I am Mr. Scaramouche.” Julian’s face pulled back into a smile. He sat upright, extending his neck as if he attempted to crane to look into the horizon.

“Scaramouche?” Cecil nodded slowly.

“I’ve come to claim what’s mine.” Scaramouche laughed.



Did you miss Chapters 1-250? If so, you can read them here.