Chapter 31:
Nasty Stuff, I
Know
Gamilla flew
into the dining room, panting, “Pardon me, Your Grace. Sir.”
“What’s
happened?” Mr. Punch asked, rising from his chair.
“Charles done
fell down the stairs,” Gamilla said. “There’s
blood. We need Dr. Halifax.”
Robert quickly
pushed his chair away from the table and followed Gamilla—Mr. Punch, Gerard and
Speaight hurrying behind.
“Careful on the
stairs, Sir.” Gamilla cautioned Dr. Halifax as he pushed open the door to the
service staircase to see Charles in a crumpled heap below.
“Coo!” Punch
muttered as he gazed down at Charles who was surrounded by a sobbing Jenny and
a wailing Ethel as well as Violet and Tom, the young page, who stood back at a
distance. Mrs. Pepper could be heard
shouting in the background. “This is
your fault, Ethel! You careless thing…”
Robert carefully
raced down the stairs. “Ladies, please,
stand back.”
“Girls…”
Speaight said as he came further down the staircase. “Please.
Jenny go to the kitchen and boil some water for rags. Violet, would you clear a space by the fire
for Charles? Move the poof and the
little table and put some cushions on the floor. And, Ethel!
As for you, girl, you get to the scullery and wait for me! I told you someone would hurt themselves on
these wet stairs!”
As if on cue,
Ethel’s wailing burst into nasty, snorting tears and she tore out of the
passage, retreating to her scullery.
Robert gently
stepped over Charles and knelt beside him on the stairs. Mr. Punch hurried to the man’s other side, sitting
on the step above the injured man.
“Charles, can
you hear me?” Robert asked softly.
“Yes,” Charles
sputtered. His nose was bloodied and a
red stain grew on the white shirt-front of his livery.
“Can you tell me
where you’re hurt?”
“My hand.”
Charles whimpered. “Well, really, my wrist, Sir.”
“Which one?”
“Left, Sir.”
“Punch, can you
help me get him to his feet?” Robert
asked.
Speaight looked
around nervously. The women had left to
carry out the duties that Speaight had cleverly assigned them so that the Duke
could speak freely. Only Tom lingered nearby and, Speaight thought, he was too
dim to notice that the doctor had called His Grace by a different name.
“Tom!” Speaight barked,
just to be sure, “Get out of the way, Boy.”
Tom shuffled off
to one side.
Mr. Punch and
Robert gently helped Charles to his feet.
“Now, hold him
by the waist a moment,” Robert said calmly.
“Speaight, can you take his other side, please?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Speaight nodded, joining them on the landing.
“Charles, I’m
going to check your back for injuries.
If anything hurts you as I examine you, you must call out. Yes?” He paused to study Charles' eyes for signs of head injury.
“Steady on,
mate,” Gerard called from over the railing.
“Are you ready?”
Robert asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
Charles replied softly. He cringed as Robert
ran his hands over his back, expecting there to be pain, but, thankfully, there
was none.
“You’re a lucky
man,” Robert smiled. “Now then, let’s
have a look at your wrist. Come sit with
me at Mrs. Pepper’s table.”
Punch and Speaight
helped Charles to the kitchen table.
“Thank you,
Jenny,” Robert nodded as the girl placed a large bowl of hot water and a stack
of flannels on the table.
Mrs. Pepper came
out of the larder with a small plate of butter biscuits. “I got a cup of tea for ya, too, Charlie.”
She said sweetly. “Jenny,” she
added. “Why don’t you go wait with
Gamilla and Vi, then?”
Jenny nodded.
“Thank you,”
Charles forced himself to smile. “Thank
you, Mrs. Pepper.”
“Poor lad,” Mrs.
Pepper clucked her tongue. “Let’s clean
you up. Can’t have you sittin’ there
with blood on your face, getting’ all down your front. May I, Dr. Halifax?”
“Yes, of course.”
Robert smiled. “In fact, would you look
after him while I run upstairs to get my bag?”
“I can fetch it
for you, Sir.” Gerard volunteered, still peering nervously over the railing. “Is it in your study?”
“It is, Gerard,”
Robert nodded. “However, it’s in a
locked cabinet. I always lock it
up. Just habit. But, especially with Colin crawling, we don’t
need him getting into any medicines.”
He smiled at
Charles. “You sip your tea and let Mrs.
Pepper take care of you. I won’t be long
and when I return, we’ll get that wrist set.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Charles nodded.
“You’ll have to
pardon me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Pepper began respectfully. “This might not be somethin’ you wish to see.”
“I’d like to
stay with Charles,” Punch replied, remembering to speak as Julian would.
“You’re a good
man, Your Grace,” Mrs. Pepper grinned. “Most
men of your rank and station wouldn’t care so much.”
“May I help?”
Punch asked.
“Thank you, Your
Grace.” Mrs. Pepper nodded, wringing out a warm, wet cloth. “You might help me get ‘im outta that waistcoat
and shirt and collar.”
“No.” Charles
shook his head. “Not here. Not with the girls around. They might come in.”
“I’ll fix that.”
Mrs. Pepper nodded, winking. “Hold your
ears, Your Grace.”
“I’ll speak with
them…” Speaight began, but Mrs. Pepper narrowed her eyes at him and he backed
off.
Mr. Punch
squinted at Mrs. Pepper, but did as she said—placing his hands over his ears. He wanted to giggle, but thought better of it.
“Girls! Don’t you come in here now! Stay out in the servants’ hall! Charlie’s gonna take off his shirt.”
“Mrs. Pepper, I
could have told them that.” Speaight muttered.
“Already done,
Mr. Speaight.” Mrs. Pepper nodded proudly.
Punch helped
Charles off with his waistcoat, shirt and bloodied collar as Mrs. Pepper dabbed
at his bloody nose.
Gerard joined
them and looked helplessly over Charles’ shoulder.
Punch wanted
desperately to chatter soothingly at his friend, but knew he couldn’t with Mrs.
Pepper there. For a moment, he felt very
self-conscious and noticed that Tom was peering around the corner of the
kitchen door, staring at him.
Tapping Speaight
on the elbow, Punch pointed to Tom.
“Here, boy! Get out!” Speaight barked. Tom skittered off, but not as far as Speaight
thought.
“There you go,
lad,” Mrs. Pepper smiled. “All
clean. I ‘spect your nose is gonna be
sore in the mornin’. Hope it don’t
swell. I’ll go get ya somethin’ cool to
put on it.”
“Thank you, Mrs.
Pepper,” Punch smiled.
“No, thank you,
Your Grace. You’re not at all like other
men of your station. No, Sir, you’re so
much kinder. We’re so fortunate…” She
continued to mutter as she wandered off to the larder in search of something
cool for Charles.
Alone with
Charles, Gerard and Speaight, Punch sighed with relief. “Now, valet chum,” Punch said softly. “My Robert’ll be back in jus’ a minute and he’’ll
get ya all patched up, he will.”
“That’s right,
Charlie,” Gerard nodded, patting his friend’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be jus’ fine. Just like Mr. Punch said.”
Though he
understood the momentary lack of formality, Speaight looked around nervously,
making sure no one was listening. He
should have, however, taken a moment to peer around the corner of the service
opening to the kitchen where Tom was crouched.
“We’re all gonna
make sure you’re not in no pain, Charles.” Mr. Punch continued.
“I really am all
right, Mr. Punch,” Charles responded—unware that Tom was still lurking around
the corner, listening to every word. “Don’t
fuss over me.”
“Ain’t fussin’. We’re all in this together, we are.” Punch
nodded. “Besides, gonna need ya to get
well.”
“Sir?”
“Can’t dress
me-self.” Punch teased.
Charles smiled slightly.
“And, we’re
gonna need ya at Colin’s christenin’.
Right? After all, it were you what came up with one of his names.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Charles finally grinned.
A frightened
gasp interrupted the moment. Punch,
Speaight and Charles looked up to see Ellen leaning over the railing of the
service stairs. “Bless my soul! What’s happened?”
“My shirt…”
Charles whispered as Ellen came down the stairs and around the pillars into the
kitchen.
“Charles took a
tumble on the slick stairs, Miss Barrett,” Punch explained. “Only he’s gonna be fine, he is. Ain’t no reason to worry.” Punch wrapped Charles’ bloody shirt around
the man’s bare shoulders.
The sight of the
blood made Ellen gasp again. She
staggered backward. Gerard hurried to
her side, placing his arm around her shoulders.
“Steady on, Miss Ellen.”
“I’ve always
been made queasy by…” Ellen panted.
“Take her out to
the hall,” Speaight nodded at Gerard.
“Come on, then.”
Gerard said cheerfully as he guided Ellen out of the kitchen. He was so focused on the woman, he didn’t see
Tom duck behind the orange crates in the corner.
Gamilla watched
as Gerard helped Ellen over to the fire.
Gamilla, for a moment, could feel the blood rising in her face. She clenched her hands into fists, and, then,
she felt terribly guilty. Nevertheless,
the sight of Gerard with his arm around Ellen had bothered her terribly. She felt ashamed of herself for being jealous—especially
of the woman who’d so quickly become her dear friend, the woman who stopped in
the middle of a personal crisis to bring her flowers.
“What’s wrong,
Miss?” Gamilla asked quickly, trying to cover her brief moment of jealous
anger.
“She saw the
blood on Charles and it made her feel a bit sick is all,” Gerard winked.
“Come sit by me,
Miss.” Gamilla said gently, helping Gerard seat the woman in Speaight’s
comfortable chair.
They looked up
as Robert trotted into the room with his large, black leather doctor’s
bag. He immediately went into the
kitchen.
“You’re looking
better already,” Robert said cheerfully.
It was at that moment when Charles realized why Dr. Halifax had quickly
become such a popular physician in Belgravia.
“Charles,”
Robert continued. “I’m going to set your
wrist with this stiff bit of board and some bandages. Keeping it still will allow it to heal
properly. And, then, I’m going to give
you a draft of this suspension which will help kill the pain.”
“I couldn’t,
Sir.” Charles shook his head as Robert withdrew a yellow bottle from his
bag. “I’m not good with those things.
They don’t set well with me. I don’t
have the stomach for them.”
“This is mild
enough. It will help you. You must do it, Charles.”
“It doesn’t hurt
too badly, Sir.” Charles winced.
“Come on, then,”
Punch whispered. “Do as he says. It’ll be all right.”
“As you wish,
Your Grace.” Charles sighed.
Robert winked at
Punch and pointed to a large spoon which Punch handed to him. Robert poured a bit of the medicine into the
spoon and held it up to Charles’ mouth. “I
think maybe we’ll start with this. It’ll
make the setting of your wrist easier on you.”
Charles’ nose
tickled from the scent of the medicine, but he swallowed it all the same,
shuddering as the mixture trickled down his throat.
“It’s nasty
stuff, I know.” Robert smiled.
Charles nodded.
Robert began to
look around the kitchen.
“Do you need
something, Sir?” Speaight asked.
“Scissors.”
“Uhhh…” Speaight
squinted. “There must be some in the
servants’ hall.” He walked to the
kitchen entrance and peered out in the hall.
“Tom! Bring us a scissors, then.”
“Tom ain’t here,
Mr. Speaight.” Gerard answered. “But, I’ll
bring ‘em.”
“Where’d Tom go?” Speaight asked.
“Dunno, Mr.
Speaight,” Jenny shrugged from her spot by the fire. “Saw him slip out the area door jus’ a few
minutes ago.”
“Maybe, he done
went to bed, Sir. He’s just a boy.”
Gamilla suggested.
“Maybe.”
Speaight sighed, brightening a bit as Gerard handed him the scissors. Before going back into the kitchen, Speaight paused
to peer at the window which looked out onto the area—that space below street
level which was accessed by the exterior service stairs. He couldn’t see Tom. Muttering irritably, Speaight returned to the
kitchen.
Little did
Speaight know, Tom hadn’t just slipped out to go to his bed above the stable in
the mews. He’d gone out to meet his
mother and did so with a happy heart—knowing that he had all sorts of things to
tell her of the Duke who was called “Mr. Punch.”
“There’s me
Tommy…” Eudora Stover grinned as Tom met her in the mews. “What ya got for your mama tonight?”
Tom took a
yellow pear from his pocket and offered the fruit to his mother.
“What else?”
Eudora asked her son. “You know what I
want. What news have ya got?”
“All sorts, Ma,”
Tom grinned. “All sorts.”
Did you miss
Chapters 1-30 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square?
If so, you can read them here.
Come back tomorrow for Chapter 32—a very special chapter, indeed!
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