Chapter 32:
Pour l'éternité
Mr. Punch
murmured, “Sure, puppy dogs. I will like
to pet your soft fur.”
Robert looked
down at his sleeping companion who was contentedly dreaming, it seemed, about
puppies.
“Nice puppies.”
Punch muttered again in his sleep.
Robert chuckled,
scratching his shoulder through his nightshirt, and propped himself up on a
stack of pillows. He reached over and
stroked Mr. Punch’s hair, using his fingers to brush the long auburn strands
from off of the man’s smooth forehead.
Punch snorted
and opened his eyes into squinty slits. “Where’d
them puppies go?” He whispered.
“Back to
dream-land. Dog Toby’s here though. Robert smiled, pointing to the foot of the
bed where the terrier was curled up, snoring.
“Mornin’, Chum.” Punch mumbled sleepily.
“Good morning.” Robert nodded.
Punch opened one
eye a little wider. “Here, you stay in
here all night, did ya?”
“I did.” Robert
grinned.
“You—you who’s
always makin’ such a fuss ‘bout havin’ to sleep in your own room ‘less Charles
comes in and sees ya here in the mornin’ like he and Gerard don’t already know
that you sleep in here?” Punch rambled groggily.
“I changed my
mind.” Robert shrugged.
“Good,” Punch
snorted, burying his head in his pillows.
“Like when you do. You always
should.” He closed his eyes and grinned
broadly. “There was puppies in me
dream. Lots and lots of ‘em. All white, they were—with fine pointy
ears. Good puppies. All of ‘em soft and smellin’ good.”
“I’m glad.”
Robert chuckled.
“I were terrible
sleepy.” Punch rubbed his eyes.
“You must have
been. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you
sleep that much—not since the night of the stable fire in Louisiana.”
“Cooooo…” Punch
moaned. “I forgot ‘bout that. Hurt me-self, I did—and for what? Tryin’ to get that terrible Iolanthe
Evangeline woman outta there. Shoulda
left her to burn.”
“But, you didn’t. And, you couldn’t. For as awful as she was, you’re that kind.”
Mr. Punch
mumbled something that Robert couldn’t understand and rolled over again.
“What was that,
dear Punch?”
“Huh?” Punch muttered. “Dunno.
Puppies, I think.”
“Yes,
Punch. Puppies.”
“Bugger.” Punch
laughed, sitting up. “I gotta wake
me-self up, I gotta. Ain’t like me to be
so tired. Don’t usually need as much
sleep as you do.”
“You are human,
dear Punch.”
“Seems so.” Mr.
Punch giggled. “Never saw it comin.’”
“Go on,” Robert
pressed gently on Punch’s shoulder. “Lie
back down and rest.”
“Nah—gotta get
up. Gotta go check on Charles.”
“I’m sure he’s
still sleeping. That opiate I gave him
for the pain of his broken wrist is quite powerful. I suspect he’ll be down all day. And, I told Gerard, before we retired, not to
come up until I rang today. Miss Barrett
is with Colin and we have nothing which requires our urgent attention.”
“Here, chum,”
Mr. Punch smiled, “what’s got into ya, today?
Ain’t like you to want to lie ‘bout.”
“I wanted to
spend a little peaceful time with you today.”
“Oh?”
“It is a special
occasion, after all.”
“Is it?” Punch
frowned. “Did I miss somethin’? Is it Easter?”
“No.” Robert
laughed.
“Bank ‘oliday?”
“It should be,
but, no.” Robert winked.
“Why should it
be? What’s special about today?” He counted on his fingers. “It’s just March 23.”
“Yes.” Robert
nodded pointedly.
“And?”
“You don’t
remember?”
“Nope.” Punch
shook his head.
“Thirty-nine
years ago today, you were born.”
“I was?” Punch’s
eyes widened.
“Yes.”
“Oh!” Punch
giggled. “You mean Julian were born
today! That’s it…it’s the anniversary of
Julian’s birth!”
“Your birth,
too.”
“Is it?” Punch
tilted his head to one side. “I weren’t
born like a people. I just…well…I just
appeared in Julian’s body.”
“Without Julian’s
body, there’d be no Punch. So, it’s your
birthday, too.”
“I never thought
of it.” Mr. Punch sighed. “I ‘spose you’re
right. Still, it ain't really Mr. Punch's anniversary. See, in that book what you gave
me—it said that Punch were first seen by Samuel Pepys in Covent Garden in May
of 1662. That were a long time ‘go.” He sighed.
“I went and confused me-self.”
“That was the
puppet Mr. Punch—not the man. Not this
wonderful man who has taken me into his home, into his life, into his heart. You’re no puppet. Maybe you’re called ‘Punch’ and maybe you
have a good many Punch-like characteristics.
But, remember, you’re Punch’s cousin—not the wooden-headed, red-nosed
bloke himself. Not now.”
“I really ain’t
a puppet no more.” Mr. Punch smiled.
“No.” Robert put
his arm around his companion. “I can
attest that you’re not.”
Mr. Punch
chuckled. “Never had a birthday before.”
“Well, it’s high
time that you did, I think.”
“And,
thirty-nine, huh?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kinda
old, ain’t it?”
“Not at all.” Robert smiled. “Of course, no matter what, I’ll always be
younger than you.”
“By two little years.”
Mr. Punch frowned playfully. “Here, you
gotta be nice. It’s me birthday, it seems.”
“It certainly
is.”
“Will you sing
to me?” Punch asked, wide-eyed.
“I will—‘For He’
a Jolly Good Fellow.’ Not just me—the entire
household. Speaight, Mrs. Pepper and I
have been plotting, you see. We’ve got a
whole scheme. There’s to be a party.”
“A party?”
“That’s
right. You and me and Colin and the
staff. We’re going to have all of your
favorite things to eat and Mrs. Pepper has made you a grand, tiered cake.”
“Coo!” Mr. Punch
chirped, his eyes filling with happy tears.
He choked a bit. “A whole
cake? For me? A cake in my honor?”
Robert wiped the
warm tears from Punch’s cheeks. “Of
course, dear Punch.”
“Only…only I don’t
deserve no such thing!” Punch sniffed, his tears flowing more heavily. “I ain’t nothin’ special, I ain’t. We should have a party for you—maybe, or
Colin. Or even Gerry or Charles, but not
for me.”
“You most
certainly do deserve it!” Robert said firmly.
“I don’t think you realize how special you are. Can’t you see how every person in this house
loves you? Me and Colin most of all!”
Punch shook his
head. “Here, what’s gotten into me? Cryin’ like this.” He smiled.
“Only I never had a party for me-self nor even me very own cake. Julian didn’t neither. See, the duchess didn’t care for such
things. Our pa—he’d bring in presents
and sneak ‘em past. Only…”
“Now you
shall. And every year for the rest of
our lives you shall. I swear it.” Robert
interrupted.
“You remember
the other day when we went to Covent Garden to see the puppet show?” Punch
mumbled.
“I do.” Robert
smiled.
“Well, did ya
see that nice lady with the blue eyes and the dark hair all pulled-back pretty
under her bonnet?”
“The woman with
the little boy?”
“Sure.” Punch
nodded, his eyes filling with tears again.
“She were so
nice to that boy. She was smilin’ and
playin’ with him and laughin’ at Punch and Judy. And, she…”
Punch choked on his words.
“She had treats
for him.” Robert nodded, crying a bit himself.
“She had a paper cone of sweeties.”
“Sure.” Mr.
Punch sniffed. “Why couldn’t we have had
a ma like that?”
“I don’t know.”
Robert coughed. “Cecil and I didn’t
either. That’s why it’s all the more
important that you and I do little things like this to celebrate our
family. That’s why we should sing ‘For
He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’ and eat cake and enjoy ourselves and that’s why we
should do the same for Colin. We’ve all
earned it, I think.”
Mr. Punch wiped
his eyes. “Sure, Chum.” He smiled.
“We’re a mess, we are.”
“You don’t have
to tell me.” Robert laughed. He reached
under the blanket and removed a small, grass-colored, shagreen box. “I’ve gotten you a present.”
“Is it a toy?” Punch asked brightly.
“No.” Robert
laughed.
“You always get
me little toys.” Punch winked.
“Well, yes, on a
Tuesday or on a Saturday, but not on a special day like this.” Robert teased
his companion.
“What is it,
then?”
“Well, you’ll
just have to open it.” Robert nodded,
offering the box to Punch. But, then, he
quickly pulled it back as Punch reached for it.
“Coo!” Punch
squawked. “Don’t tease me.”
“Before I give
this to you, I have a confession to make.”
“Oh?”
“I was…naughty.”
“How so?”
“Well, I had no
choice but to go to one of your competitors.”
“Pardon?”
“I couldn’t very
well commission you to design your own birthday present.”
“What is it?”
“So, I had to
see a man at Garrard’s.”
“What is it?” Punch repeated more excitedly.
Robert handed
the box to Punch who ran his fingers over the bumpy texture of the shagreen.
“Can you ‘magine
this is the skin o’ somethin’?” Punch mumbled.
“The box isn’t
the present.” Robert laughed.
“Right, sorry.”
Punch giggled.
“Go on—open it.”
Robert urged.
“Never had a birthday
present ‘fore.” Punch chirped.
Robert nodded.
Mr. Punch opened
the box and his eyes lit up when he saw what it held. Inside was a band of gold set with several
glittering gemstones.
“A diamond, an
emerald, an amethyst, a ruby, another emerald, a sapphire and a turquoise.”
Punch said softly, clearly moved by the gift.
“Dearest.”
Robert smiled. “The first letter of each
stone…they spell ‘DEAREST.’”
Punch swallowed
hard. “This is for me?”
“Yes.” Robert
smiled.
“Can I wear it?” Punch asked emotionally.
“That was rather
the point.” Robert answered.
Punch studied the
ring. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you
like it.” Robert sniffed contentedly. “Look
inside the band.”
Mr. Punch took
the ring from the box and held it up to the morning light streaming through the
window. “There’s writin’.”
“I had it inscribed.”
Punch read the
inscription aloud. “P.M. Pour l'éternité R.H.H. 23 Mar. 1853.”
“Do you like it?”
“I never liked nothin’ more than I like this. It’s the finest thing, Chum…”
Robert took the ring from Mr. Punch and slipped it on his companion’s
left third finger.
“And, there’s gonna be a cake!” Mr. Punch whooped.
“A glorious cake,” Robert laughed loudly, hugging his friend. “All you want.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-31? If so,
you can read them in the Mr. Punch of
Belgrave Square Chapter Archive.
Come back tomorrow for Chapter 33.
12 comments:
Made me cry again, wonderful scene. Thank you for it.
I agree, Matt . The dialogue just brought the whole scene to life. Great chapter!
I cried too. So sweet...
I got all choked up 2 and I never do!
Thank you Matt. I found myself a little emotional when I was writing it.
You're very kind, Darcy. Thank you for your comment. Blogger has been a little wonky today, so some of the comments I've gotten were stuck in the system. My apologies for being slow in posting.
Aw. Thanks, Book Gurl.
Sam...I'm glad to hear I broke through your tough exterior. I'm kidding. Thank you for your comment.
This was so adorable. Happy Birthday to Mr. Punch.
Yay for Mr. Punch! Thanks, Carolyn.
Amazing how real these people have become. Really touching writing and you make us all very protective of these characters, I think.
I appreciate that, Dashwood. I find myself worrying about them, too.
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