Chapter 98:
Always Breaks in Two
“Baron,” Mr. Punch said as politely as he could, making sure to affect Julian’s voice and mannerisms. “How unexpected.”
The baron rose as the Duke of Fallbridge entered the handsome, pine-paneled library of Grange Molliner.
“My apologies for coming unannounced again.” Baron Lensdown answered stiffly.
“How might I help you today, Baron?” Punch asked formally.
“Where is your…”
“Dr. Halifax?” Punch interrupted.
“Yes.” Lensdown replied.
“Dr. Halifax is working.”
“Oh? Is someone ill? Has your governess taken a turn for the worse?”
“Not at all.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Dr. Halifax is writing a book. I had some business which required my attention this morning, so I suggested he take to the veranda with his writing while the sun was warm.”
“What is the subject of the book?”
Mr. Punch sniffed. “It’s…well…the book is regarding Dr. Halifax’s research on the manner in which individuals identify themselves.”
“I don’t understand.” Lensdown sighed.
“For example,” Punch explained. “Most men have one set demeanor. Certainly, we all behave differently in various circumstances and with different people. However, overall, the way in which a man reacts and performs is consistent. Still, some have more than one identity. More than one personality, if you will. These individual personas are, somehow, independent and fully-formed, yet they must share one body. Dr. Halifax is investigating this phenomenon.”
“Fascinating.” Lensdown said dryly. “As a theory… But, surely such men don’t really exist.”
“I believe that they do, Baron.” Mr. Punch smiled. “Now,” he sat down. “How may I help you today?”
“I’ve come about your kind invitation to the ball.”
“Ah, yes.” Punch nodded, still speaking as Julian. “I hope that you and the baroness will still be able to attend.”
“Well, yes.” The baron began. “However, yesterday I failed to mention one detail.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d completely forgotten that when we departed my wife invited some friends to join us during our holiday here. They only just arrived this morning.”
“That must be very enjoyable for the baroness.” Mr. Punch nodded.
“Yes. Gertrude likes them. They shall keep her occupied.”
“So, you’re wondering if you might bring your guests to the ball?” Mr. Punch asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” Mr. Punch answered. “If you will, please, tell me their names so that I might update our guest list.”
“The Countess Hamish and Lady Constance Hamish.” The baron replied without emotion. “I think you know them.”
Punch took a deep breath. “I do.”
“I hope that will not be inconvenient.”
“Not at all,” Punch shook his head.
“I understand that there had previously been a trifle skirmish between your Dr. Halifax and the Countess.”
“A minor disagreement.” Mr. Punch waved a hand. “Nothing of consequence. You know how people gossip. I’m sure it’s been terribly exaggerated.”
“I’m sure.” The baron responded.
“Dr. Halifax and I will be very pleased to welcome the countess and Lady Constance to our home.” Mr. Punch rose. “I will ensure that invitations are brought to them by messenger this afternoon, and, if you will, inform them how very glad that we are that they will be able to join us, I’d be most appreciative..”
“I shall.” The baroness nodded, standing up again.
“I don’t mean to be abrupt, but if there’s nothing else, Baron, I do have much which requires my attention.”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” The baron bowed slightly.
“Good morning, Baron.” Punch nodded. “I’ll just ring for…”
“No.” The baron shook his head. “I can see myself out.”
“Very well.” Punch replied. He watched as Baron Lensdown left the room.
Alone finally, Punch could feel his false smile melting into a frown. He walked over to the corner of the library, grabbing a small porcelain figurine from a nearby table on the way.
Crawling on his hands and knees, Punch crawled under the ornate writing desk in the room’s corner. Lying on his stomach under the desk, he placed the sculpture in front of himself and leaned on his elbows.
“Bugger!” He grumbled to the figurine—a pink-cheeked shepherd boy with a cheerful white sheep and gray and black spotted dog. “Gonna bring those witches into me house, he is.” He shook his head. “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger.” He snorted, adding. “And, damn!”
“We’ll just ignore them, we will.” He continued. “We’ll greet them all warm like, and, then, we’ll ignore them. That’s the way to do it.”
“Still,” he growled. “Bugger.”
Punch lowered his head, resting his cheek on his hands. He shut his eyes. “Wish I was out in the field like you, Shepherd Boy, with the sheep, and Colin and my Robert and Dog Toby—where there ain’t no countesses nor hatchet-faced girls nor stiff, odd barons.”
He sighed. “Or up in the tower where…”
Suddenly, a strange image passed behind Punch’s eyes. He saw a young man screaming, begging, pleading, grasping—his fingers scraped raw on the stone. And, then…the fall!
“Oh!” Punch shot up—hitting his head on the underside of the table. “Oh—me head.” He tried to lie down again, but lost his balance. Quickly, he extended one arm to support himself, and, in his effort, upset the figurine—breaking it in half on the cold, wooden floor.
“Bugger…” Punch mumbled as he closed his eyes again. “Always breaks in two, it does.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-97 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 99.
“Baron,” Mr. Punch said as politely as he could, making sure to affect Julian’s voice and mannerisms. “How unexpected.”
The baron rose as the Duke of Fallbridge entered the handsome, pine-paneled library of Grange Molliner.
“My apologies for coming unannounced again.” Baron Lensdown answered stiffly.
“How might I help you today, Baron?” Punch asked formally.
“Where is your…”
“Dr. Halifax?” Punch interrupted.
“Yes.” Lensdown replied.
“Dr. Halifax is working.”
“Oh? Is someone ill? Has your governess taken a turn for the worse?”
“Not at all.” Mr. Punch shook his head. “Dr. Halifax is writing a book. I had some business which required my attention this morning, so I suggested he take to the veranda with his writing while the sun was warm.”
“What is the subject of the book?”
Mr. Punch sniffed. “It’s…well…the book is regarding Dr. Halifax’s research on the manner in which individuals identify themselves.”
“I don’t understand.” Lensdown sighed.
“For example,” Punch explained. “Most men have one set demeanor. Certainly, we all behave differently in various circumstances and with different people. However, overall, the way in which a man reacts and performs is consistent. Still, some have more than one identity. More than one personality, if you will. These individual personas are, somehow, independent and fully-formed, yet they must share one body. Dr. Halifax is investigating this phenomenon.”
“Fascinating.” Lensdown said dryly. “As a theory… But, surely such men don’t really exist.”
“I believe that they do, Baron.” Mr. Punch smiled. “Now,” he sat down. “How may I help you today?”
“I’ve come about your kind invitation to the ball.”
“Ah, yes.” Punch nodded, still speaking as Julian. “I hope that you and the baroness will still be able to attend.”
“Well, yes.” The baron began. “However, yesterday I failed to mention one detail.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d completely forgotten that when we departed my wife invited some friends to join us during our holiday here. They only just arrived this morning.”
“That must be very enjoyable for the baroness.” Mr. Punch nodded.
“Yes. Gertrude likes them. They shall keep her occupied.”
“So, you’re wondering if you might bring your guests to the ball?” Mr. Punch asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why that would be a problem.” Mr. Punch answered. “If you will, please, tell me their names so that I might update our guest list.”
“The Countess Hamish and Lady Constance Hamish.” The baron replied without emotion. “I think you know them.”
Punch took a deep breath. “I do.”
“I hope that will not be inconvenient.”
“Not at all,” Punch shook his head.
“I understand that there had previously been a trifle skirmish between your Dr. Halifax and the Countess.”
“A minor disagreement.” Mr. Punch waved a hand. “Nothing of consequence. You know how people gossip. I’m sure it’s been terribly exaggerated.”
“I’m sure.” The baron responded.
“Dr. Halifax and I will be very pleased to welcome the countess and Lady Constance to our home.” Mr. Punch rose. “I will ensure that invitations are brought to them by messenger this afternoon, and, if you will, inform them how very glad that we are that they will be able to join us, I’d be most appreciative..”
“I shall.” The baroness nodded, standing up again.
“I don’t mean to be abrupt, but if there’s nothing else, Baron, I do have much which requires my attention.”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” The baron bowed slightly.
“Good morning, Baron.” Punch nodded. “I’ll just ring for…”
“No.” The baron shook his head. “I can see myself out.”
“Very well.” Punch replied. He watched as Baron Lensdown left the room.
Alone finally, Punch could feel his false smile melting into a frown. He walked over to the corner of the library, grabbing a small porcelain figurine from a nearby table on the way.
Crawling on his hands and knees, Punch crawled under the ornate writing desk in the room’s corner. Lying on his stomach under the desk, he placed the sculpture in front of himself and leaned on his elbows.
“Bugger!” He grumbled to the figurine—a pink-cheeked shepherd boy with a cheerful white sheep and gray and black spotted dog. “Gonna bring those witches into me house, he is.” He shook his head. “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger.” He snorted, adding. “And, damn!”
“We’ll just ignore them, we will.” He continued. “We’ll greet them all warm like, and, then, we’ll ignore them. That’s the way to do it.”
“Still,” he growled. “Bugger.”
Punch lowered his head, resting his cheek on his hands. He shut his eyes. “Wish I was out in the field like you, Shepherd Boy, with the sheep, and Colin and my Robert and Dog Toby—where there ain’t no countesses nor hatchet-faced girls nor stiff, odd barons.”
He sighed. “Or up in the tower where…”
Suddenly, a strange image passed behind Punch’s eyes. He saw a young man screaming, begging, pleading, grasping—his fingers scraped raw on the stone. And, then…the fall!
“Oh!” Punch shot up—hitting his head on the underside of the table. “Oh—me head.” He tried to lie down again, but lost his balance. Quickly, he extended one arm to support himself, and, in his effort, upset the figurine—breaking it in half on the cold, wooden floor.
“Bugger…” Punch mumbled as he closed his eyes again. “Always breaks in two, it does.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-97 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 99.
4 comments:
Wow! Touching and interesting literary device with the figurine.
Thank you.
I agree. Really nice.
You're sweet, Marsha.
Post a Comment