Punch’s Cousin, Chapter 377

“Oh, Gerry,” Gamilla wailed as she heard Gerard come through the back door of the house on Royal Street. “It’s been awful! Iolanthe Evangeline done came in the house and tried to hurt the Duke and then His Grace, well, it was Mr. Punch to be sure, up and wakes up and goes with her! Goes with her…he…” She stopped when she saw a bloody and bruised Charles—carrying Barbara Allen—follow Gerard into the house.”


“Now, ‘Milla.” Gerard said slowly. “Don’t get yourself upset.”

“No…no…” Gamilla shook her head. “That woman ain’t welcome in this house. Ain’t no way. I done heard His Grace and Mr. Punch both say it plain as day. She ain’t comin’ in this house.”

“The woman is ill,” Charles spat as he gently lowered Barbara onto the kitchen table.

“Arthur, you’re so sweet.” Barbara murmured.

“Arthur? Don’t she know that bastard is dead?” Gamilla squinted.

“She doesn’t know anything.” Charles growled. “She thinks she’s still in England on her family’s land. She thinks that I’m Arthur.”

“Charles, you know I can’t let you bring her in here. I know you like her an all, but I ain’t gonna let it happen.”

“Who made you the superior here?” Charles snarled.

“Numbers done made me.” Gamilla frowned. “Meridian’s down in her room—ailin’ from the blow to the head that old woman gave her. Everyone else is out. I been a member of this family’s staff longer than all of ya. His Grace calls me the Upper House Parlor Maid. Now, I don’t know what that means being some kind of foreign way of talkin’, but I reckon it means I outrank the two of you, and even if it doesn’t, I’m makin’ it so. Mr. Halifax and the Duke done left me in charge of the house—both of ‘em. And, I know that none of ‘em would want that woman in this house!”

“She’s staying.” Charles said plainly.

“That’s right.” Gerard nodded. “She is the Duke’s sister, ain’t she? Now, His Grace may be slightly mad, but he ain’t callous and cruel. He wouldn’t turn his own blood out!”

“Don’t be so sure. If His Grace is tetched, it ain’t a lack of common sense that causes it. He knows this girl ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”

“I don’t care.” Charles said. “She’s staying.”

“Not in the main house, she ain’t.” Gamilla argued.

“Fine. I’ll put her in my room.” Charles replied.

“All this fuss over me, you’re all so loyal. I must tell Mother.” Barbara mumbled—her eyes still closed.

Charles lifted Barbara from the table. “Come, Lady Barbara. Tonight, you shall sleep in my room.”

“Oh, no you ain’t!” Gamilla blocked the door to the back stairs. “I ain’t havin’ no unmarried man sleepin’ in the same room with a…with a whore. Not in His Grace’s house.”

“If you were a man, I’d slap your face for that!” Charles shouted.

“Go on and do it.” Gamilla challenged him. “Won’t change nothin’. She ain’t sleepin’ in the men’s quarters.”

“I won’t go in the room, ‘Milla.” Gerard said. “I’ll sleep out in the cabin with the other men. Charles will, too.”

“No.” Gamilla shook her head. “Go on and put her in my room. That’s the most proper thing.”

Charles smiled.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like it one little bit. And, just know that when His Grace comes back this is all gonna be on your head, Charles. You and Gerry! I won’t take no ‘sponsibility for it.” Gamilla spat.

“I’ll explain everything to Mr. Punch or the Duke or whichever one he is when he returns and I’ll make sure that your position on the subject is most clear.” Charles replied.

“Get her out of Meridian’s kitchen now!” Gamilla waved her arms.

“Thank you, Gamilla.” Charles nodded as he carried Barbara from the kitchen.

“Don’t go thankin’ me!” Gamilla shouted. “This ain’t my business.” She looked at Gerard once Charles had left. “I ‘spose you had somethin’ for to do with this?”

“I did.” Gerard nodded.

“You’re a bad lot, all you foreigners. Where you from anyway?”

“Bristol.” Gerard said.

“Where’s that?”

“England.”

“You don’t talk like His Grace.”

“The Duke speaks like a nobleman.” Gerry smiled. “I didn’t have that luxury.”

“You don’t talk like them Halifaxes or even Mr. Punch.”

“The doctor and his brother are Londoners of a lesser class than His Grace. They speak as others of their kind do. They try to sound noble, but just can’t get it quite right. As for Mr. Punch, well, I ‘spose he talks like what a puppet might.”

“You’re a bad lot, all of ya.” Gamilla frowned. “Now, sit your cold rear down and let me get ya some coffee. Ain’t no point in havin’ ya freeze to death.”

“You’re a good woman, ‘Milla.”

“My name is Ga-milla.” She responded, emphasizing the first two letters.

“I know. I guess I was just tryin’ to give ya a pet name.”

“What for?” Gamilla frowned.

“Cuz maybe I like you.”

“Hmmph.” Gamilla snorted.

“I ain’t never really knew someone like you before. Sure, there was some of your folks on the ship, but I never talked to ‘em. You’re right nice people.”

“You mean you never talked to an African girl before?”

“No.”

“Well, you come to the right place for it.” Gamilla sighed.

“You’re pretty, you know.” Gerard smiled.

“Cut that out and drink your coffee.” She plunked a cup in front of him. “We ain’t got no time for such foolishness. You warm yourself up and go out and find them babies.”

“Right,” Gerard nodded, gulping his hot coffee.

“Not so fast. No sense burnin’ your tongue on it. Fool.”

“I’m strong enough.” Gerard winked after a gulp.

“Now, go on.” Gamilla swatted at Gerard with a rag.

“Yes, ma’am.” Gerard grinned.

“And, I don’t want to see you comin’ back here without no babies.”

“What about Miss Allen?”

“She’s Charles problem.” Gamilla snapped. “But, maybe I’ll look in on her if I feel like it.”

“You’re a good woman.”

“Get out of here, damn you.” Gamilla barked.

Meanwhile, Punch, Robert and Marjani hurried toward the Hotel Triumph and asked the clerk which room Agnes Rittenhouse had hired. As they raced up the stairs, Marjani gagged. Robert turned to look at her.

“I smell death. New death.” Marjani said, swallowing hard.

When they reached the room, they found the door open.

Robert moaned loudly when he saw what awaited them.

Agnes Rittenhouse lay on the floor—her gray eyes open—in a thick pool of her own blood.

A single purple feather floated at the thickest part of the bloody mess.

“Coo!” Punch gasped. “Iolanthe done killed the ol’ bitch. You’d think I’d be happier to see it, you would. After all she done to me master…and me. Only, it ain’t right to see no one in such a way. Even if she were a monster.”

“I don’t give a damn about the loss of her life,” Robert responded coldly. “Good riddance, in fact. What bothers me most is that we’re that much farther away from finding the children.”

“Here, what should we do with her?” Punch asked.

“Leave her for Odo. I’m sure he’ll be back here.” Robert said softly. “Our concern is for the living.”

“Don’t fret, Doctor.” Marjani said gently. “Iolanthe is smart, but she ain’t as smart as she thinks. We’ll fin’ her.”

“Sure, that’s the way to do it!” Punch said as jubilantly as he could.

“Yes,” Robert sighed, looking at the ghastly remains of Agnes Rittenhouse. “That’s the way to do it, indeed.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-376? If so, you can read them here.