Punch's Cousin, Chapter 270

Mama Routhe gently placed her hand over the baby’s mouth as the crouched in the wardrobe at the rear of their little flat. The child sucked upon her finger and she smiled slightly despite the surging waves of fear she felt in her arms. With that fear came the tingles of guilt that often crop up in such situations, and she worried that, perhaps, she wasn’t doing the right thing.


“Gotta keep ya safe, Little One.” She whispered to the baby as she strained to listen to the raised voices outside. “That nice lady can take care o’ herself, I ‘spect.”

Adrienne, in fact, was doing a fine job taking care of herself. She leveled her eyes at the three masked, menacing figures.

“So, one of you is a woman?” She said sharply. “And, shall I guess which woman you are?”

“Who and what we are is none of your concern.” The tallest, lankiest of the men said.

“You’ve made it my business.” She spat. “Your accent is coarse. You’re clearly English, but you’re certainly not of noble birth. How queer that you’d take the time to disguise your gender, but not your voice.”

“How do you know, we ain’t?” The lanky man asked as he walked slowly forward.

“Because, you’re not that smart, Arthur.” Adrienne smiled.

“So, you think I’m Arthur, do ya?” The man laughed through his mask.

“Am I mistaken?”

“Could be.” The man replied. “Maybe I want ya to think I’m Arthur. Maybe I don’t. What if I am? Then who are these two?”

“Barbara Allen, of course, is the woman.” Adrienne growled. “That’s plain enough. To think, Charles has been espousing her great epiphany and her return to morality. That was all part of your clever plot to get your hands on the son you bore. Well, he’s not yours any longer, Barbara Allen.”

Adrienne stared at the slight figure which she believed to be a woman, specifically Julian’s sister.

The figure placed its hands on its hips.

“So, speak!” Adrienne said boldly. “You tricked my husband and your brother into telling you where we had taken the child so that you could come and get him yourself.”

“What if we did?” The shorter of the two men asked. He, too, had a rough, English accent.

“So you admit it?” Adrienne asked, looking to the “woman.”

“Don’t talk to her.” The taller man snarled.

“Then, she is a woman?” Adrienne smiled triumphantly.

“Yes, Miss.” The woman replied, removing her mask and grinning at Adrienne. “Or should I call you Adrienne since we’re such old friends.”

Adrienne gasped at the scarred face of the woman who stood before her.

“Nellie!” She said quickly.

Meanwhile, at their borrowed house on Royal Street, Mr. Punch struggled with his boots while Cecil and Robert argued with him.

“Damn that Charles!” Mr. Punch said. “What good is a valet what’s not never here?”

“He’s with Adrienne and ‘Colin,’ helping to keep them safe. So, in that regard, dear Punch, he offers us much benefit.”

“I ‘spose.” Punch grumbled. “Come on, then, get your cloak!”

“Punch, I’m not getting my cloak.”

“Then, you’ll be cold.” Punch shrugged. “Though I’d think, what with you being a doctor and all, you’d have more sense ‘bout such things. Don’t want to get your fever back, then?”

“No.” Robert shook his head. “Nor do you want a return of yours. Leave us not forget that only recently, you were abed with a raging fever, recovering from a gunshot wound.”

“I’m better now, I am.” Mr. Punch said.

“Still, would you risk your recovery to, once again, try to rescue that Barbara Allen?” Cecil interrupted. “Besides, we don’t know that she is with Arthur and his man.”

“And, we don’t know that she ain’t.” Punch shouted. He lowered his voice, recalling that Fuller was sleeping two doors down.

“Now, hold on,” He sighed. “Listen, chums, I made a promise to…well, that is to say that me master made a promise to his mum, and though she were a terrible, horrible lady, a promise is a promise, ‘specially one ya made to yer mum, and ‘specially when she were dead.”

Cecil and Robert stared at Mr. Punch.

“I’m right, you know.” Punch shrugged. “There ain’t no way ‘round it. Me master promised to look after Lady Barbara, and that’s what I aim to do. Julian can’t do it, but I can do it for him. It’s not so much for the sake of the late Duchess. No. It’s more for the sake of what’s right.”

“I shan’t argue with that.” Robert said.

“Robert!” Cecil snapped.

“He’s correct.” Robert threw up his hands.

“Well, so what if he is?” Cecil growled. “Right now, my wife, not to mention your nephew, is stranded in some lice-infested house in the Quarter, waiting with God knows what kind of people…”

“It ain’t got lice,” Marjani interrupted when she came into the room. “The Routhes are very clean folk.”

“Still…” Cecil grumbled.

“I got a solution, gentlemen.” Marjani smiled. “Don’t you worry none.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-269? If so, you can read them here.