Chapter 99:
To Bits
Robert looked up from his writing. He was seated on a stone bench under an arbor—heavy with vines which rustled gently in the breeze off of the moors. Brushing his wavy dark hair away from his eyes, he smiled when he saw Mr. Punch coming toward him, but the grin quickly turned to a look of alarm when he saw that Punch was frowning and rubbing his head.
Dog Toby, who was seated next to Robert upon the bench, jumped down and trotted to his master, wagging his tail slowly from side-to-side in an expression of concern.
“I’m all right, Dog Toby.” Mr. Punch said softly. “Ain’t no reason to worry.”
“What’s happened?” Robert asked, setting aside his lap desk and going to Punch’s side. He put his arm around his companion’s waist and guided him toward the bench, helping him to sit.
“Hit me head.” Punch smiled sheepishly.
“On what?”
“I was sittin’ under a table.” Mr. Punch answered.
“Let me see.” Robert said quickly, gently placing his hands on Punch’s head and parting the man’s shiny auburn hair. “You’ve given yourself quite a lump.”
“I know.” Mr. Punch answered.
Robert took Punch’s face in his hands and tilted his chin upward, gazing into Punch’s eyes.
“What ya doin’?” Punch asked.
“I’m making sure you’ve not been hurt.” Robert smiled.
“I hit me head all the time.” Punch shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Dear Punch,” Robert began, releasing Punch’s face and sitting beside him. Dog Toby lay down at Punch’s feet. “You must be more careful with your cranium. Remember, your head isn’t made of wood. Julian’s head is bone and flesh. It can’t withstand the blows that a puppet head can.”
“I didn’t purposely hit me head.” Punch chuckled.
Robert grinned. “Well, I know that.” He shook his head. “And, just what drove you under a table?”
“Baron Lensdown.” Punch sighed.
“Lensdown?” Robert frowned. “Was he here?”
“Yep.” Punch replied. “Came unannounced again. Wanted to tell me that his wife’s got friends here what she invited from London.”
“And, he wants to bring them to the ball.” Robert nodded. “Who are they?”
“Countess Hamish and Lady Constance.”
“Oh, isn’t that grand?” Robert scowled.
“I said he could bring ‘em. If I didn’t…”
“You don’t need to explain. The slight would have been more fuel on the fire of her hatred for me.”
“Sure would.”
“We’ll have to make the best of it, then.” Robert concluded. “I’m sure she’ll not wish to speak to me at all. I really should count my blessings. I imagine that the countess and her daughter will stay beside the Baroness Lensdown and, together, the three will criticize the whole affair.”
“I should think so.” Mr. Punch said.
“I’m terribly sorry that the baron upset you so much that you felt the need to hide under the table.”
“I don’t hide as much as I just find it comfortin’ to be under things.” Mr. Punch explained. “I took a figure with me to talk to.”
“Oh, well…that makes sense. Robert smiled.
“I broke it.” Mr. Punch whispered.
“That’s no tragedy.” Robert put his arm around Mr. Punch. “Which figure?”
“Little shepherd with his sheep and his doggy.” Mr. Punch sighed.
“I can’t say that I even remember it. Was it special?”
“Nah.” Punch shook his head. “Don’t even know who bought it. ‘Spose it were our pa. Were a Staffordshire piece. I’d reckon ‘bout ten or more years old.”
“Can it be repaired?”
“Possibly.” Punch shrugged again, he frowned.
“It’s not like you to worry about such things, my dear.” Robert said softly. “Are you concerned about it because you were talking to it? As if, perhaps, you hurt it?”
“No.” Punch shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought of that ‘til just now.”
“Ah.” Robert said quickly. “Well, don’t worry about it, then.”
“Do ya think I hurt it?”
“No.” Robert smiled. “Not all things are as sentient as you…”
Punch nodded.
“It’s not the figurine what’s worrying you. But, something is.”
Punch looked at Robert. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I…remembered somethin’.”
“What?”
“But, I can’t be sure it really happened.”
“Dear Punch, you are the keeper of the memories. If you recalled it, I’m sure it happened.”
“But, we can’t be sure. It might be somethin’ what Julian thought up. Not only do I remember what were real, sometimes I remember them things what Julian dreamed. Like when I remembered the design for the brooch. Like how I know all them things ‘bout jewels. Every so often, one of Julian’s thoughts comes up and…well, it’s like a vision.”
“Can you tell me what the vision was?”
“I were on the tower.” Mr. Punch said quietly. “And, there were two blokes. One was a fella with dark hair what was as long as his chin. He were dressed in a dark suit and had his back to me. The other bloke was a young man—fair with freckles and green eyes. He were hangin’ onto the crenellations—his body over the side of the tower. And, he were screamin’. His fingers was all bloody and his knuckles white from hangin’ on. The dark man were shoutin’ at him and then, he smashed the fair fella’s hands so that…”
“He fell?”
“Yes.” Mr. Punch gulped. “I rushed to the side and…I saw him. He were all broken to bits.”
“What happened then?”
“The dark man came up behind me and grabbed me throat and said ‘You saw nothing, Julian! Do you hear me?’”
Robert took a deep breath.
“See? Dunno if it happened or if it were one of Julian’s nightmares. But, I could almost feel the chill around me when I thought of it—like the cold breeze were in me hair and me clothes.”
“You’ve not thought of this before?” Robert asked.
“No.”
Robert nodded.
“So, when I thought of it, I got scared and I jumped and hit me head and broke the little shepherd.”
“This happened after the Baron left?”
“Just after. I were sittin’ under the table and I were complain’ ‘bout the countess and her sharp-faced daughter and it just came into me head.”
Robert bit his lip and squinted.
“What ya thinkin’?” Punch asked.
“Dear Punch, I think that within you there are thousands of images and ideas which you must organize both for you and for Julian.”
“And, Guignol and Scaramouche and them others…” Punch sighed.
“And, for them, too.” Robert squeezed Punch. “I think you have a great task is categorizing all of those memories. I only wish that I could help you with them.”
“You do.” Punch smiled. “You let me talk ‘bout them.”
“But, I have no answers.” Robert sighed.
“Who does?” Punch grinned. “Nobody’s got answers when ya think of it.”
“That’s quite true.” Robert replied.
“Well, it’s come and gone, Chum. I s’pose I shouldn’t dwell on it.”
Robert was silent.
“Here, don’t let it worry you.”
“All things which concern you, concern me, my dear.”
“Look at this lovely day,” Mr. Punch said as brightly as he could. “Ain’t a day to waste on such things.”
Robert smiled.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“I want you to rest.”
“I can rest while we walk.” Punch stood up.
“That’s not quite what I had in mind.” Robert shook his head.
“Come on, Chum. I’ll tell ya all ‘bout the costumes and all.”
“You sure you’re well enough?”
“Never better.” Punch winked.
“As you wish.” Robert rose. “Come, Toby.”
As the terrier, the doctor and the Duke wandered toward the clearing, a dark-haired man stood atop the central tower and watched their progress.
Did you miss Chapters 1-98? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 100 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
Robert looked up from his writing. He was seated on a stone bench under an arbor—heavy with vines which rustled gently in the breeze off of the moors. Brushing his wavy dark hair away from his eyes, he smiled when he saw Mr. Punch coming toward him, but the grin quickly turned to a look of alarm when he saw that Punch was frowning and rubbing his head.
Dog Toby, who was seated next to Robert upon the bench, jumped down and trotted to his master, wagging his tail slowly from side-to-side in an expression of concern.
“I’m all right, Dog Toby.” Mr. Punch said softly. “Ain’t no reason to worry.”
“What’s happened?” Robert asked, setting aside his lap desk and going to Punch’s side. He put his arm around his companion’s waist and guided him toward the bench, helping him to sit.
“Hit me head.” Punch smiled sheepishly.
“On what?”
“I was sittin’ under a table.” Mr. Punch answered.
“Let me see.” Robert said quickly, gently placing his hands on Punch’s head and parting the man’s shiny auburn hair. “You’ve given yourself quite a lump.”
“I know.” Mr. Punch answered.
Robert took Punch’s face in his hands and tilted his chin upward, gazing into Punch’s eyes.
“What ya doin’?” Punch asked.
“I’m making sure you’ve not been hurt.” Robert smiled.
“I hit me head all the time.” Punch shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Dear Punch,” Robert began, releasing Punch’s face and sitting beside him. Dog Toby lay down at Punch’s feet. “You must be more careful with your cranium. Remember, your head isn’t made of wood. Julian’s head is bone and flesh. It can’t withstand the blows that a puppet head can.”
“I didn’t purposely hit me head.” Punch chuckled.
Robert grinned. “Well, I know that.” He shook his head. “And, just what drove you under a table?”
“Baron Lensdown.” Punch sighed.
“Lensdown?” Robert frowned. “Was he here?”
“Yep.” Punch replied. “Came unannounced again. Wanted to tell me that his wife’s got friends here what she invited from London.”
“And, he wants to bring them to the ball.” Robert nodded. “Who are they?”
“Countess Hamish and Lady Constance.”
“Oh, isn’t that grand?” Robert scowled.
“I said he could bring ‘em. If I didn’t…”
“You don’t need to explain. The slight would have been more fuel on the fire of her hatred for me.”
“Sure would.”
“We’ll have to make the best of it, then.” Robert concluded. “I’m sure she’ll not wish to speak to me at all. I really should count my blessings. I imagine that the countess and her daughter will stay beside the Baroness Lensdown and, together, the three will criticize the whole affair.”
“I should think so.” Mr. Punch said.
“I’m terribly sorry that the baron upset you so much that you felt the need to hide under the table.”
“I don’t hide as much as I just find it comfortin’ to be under things.” Mr. Punch explained. “I took a figure with me to talk to.”
“Oh, well…that makes sense. Robert smiled.
“I broke it.” Mr. Punch whispered.
“That’s no tragedy.” Robert put his arm around Mr. Punch. “Which figure?”
“Little shepherd with his sheep and his doggy.” Mr. Punch sighed.
“I can’t say that I even remember it. Was it special?”
“Nah.” Punch shook his head. “Don’t even know who bought it. ‘Spose it were our pa. Were a Staffordshire piece. I’d reckon ‘bout ten or more years old.”
“Can it be repaired?”
“Possibly.” Punch shrugged again, he frowned.
“It’s not like you to worry about such things, my dear.” Robert said softly. “Are you concerned about it because you were talking to it? As if, perhaps, you hurt it?”
“No.” Punch shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought of that ‘til just now.”
“Ah.” Robert said quickly. “Well, don’t worry about it, then.”
“Do ya think I hurt it?”
“No.” Robert smiled. “Not all things are as sentient as you…”
Punch nodded.
“It’s not the figurine what’s worrying you. But, something is.”
Punch looked at Robert. “Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I…remembered somethin’.”
“What?”
“But, I can’t be sure it really happened.”
“Dear Punch, you are the keeper of the memories. If you recalled it, I’m sure it happened.”
“But, we can’t be sure. It might be somethin’ what Julian thought up. Not only do I remember what were real, sometimes I remember them things what Julian dreamed. Like when I remembered the design for the brooch. Like how I know all them things ‘bout jewels. Every so often, one of Julian’s thoughts comes up and…well, it’s like a vision.”
“Can you tell me what the vision was?”
“I were on the tower.” Mr. Punch said quietly. “And, there were two blokes. One was a fella with dark hair what was as long as his chin. He were dressed in a dark suit and had his back to me. The other bloke was a young man—fair with freckles and green eyes. He were hangin’ onto the crenellations—his body over the side of the tower. And, he were screamin’. His fingers was all bloody and his knuckles white from hangin’ on. The dark man were shoutin’ at him and then, he smashed the fair fella’s hands so that…”
“He fell?”
“Yes.” Mr. Punch gulped. “I rushed to the side and…I saw him. He were all broken to bits.”
“What happened then?”
“The dark man came up behind me and grabbed me throat and said ‘You saw nothing, Julian! Do you hear me?’”
Robert took a deep breath.
“See? Dunno if it happened or if it were one of Julian’s nightmares. But, I could almost feel the chill around me when I thought of it—like the cold breeze were in me hair and me clothes.”
“You’ve not thought of this before?” Robert asked.
“No.”
Robert nodded.
“So, when I thought of it, I got scared and I jumped and hit me head and broke the little shepherd.”
“This happened after the Baron left?”
“Just after. I were sittin’ under the table and I were complain’ ‘bout the countess and her sharp-faced daughter and it just came into me head.”
Robert bit his lip and squinted.
“What ya thinkin’?” Punch asked.
“Dear Punch, I think that within you there are thousands of images and ideas which you must organize both for you and for Julian.”
“And, Guignol and Scaramouche and them others…” Punch sighed.
“And, for them, too.” Robert squeezed Punch. “I think you have a great task is categorizing all of those memories. I only wish that I could help you with them.”
“You do.” Punch smiled. “You let me talk ‘bout them.”
“But, I have no answers.” Robert sighed.
“Who does?” Punch grinned. “Nobody’s got answers when ya think of it.”
“That’s quite true.” Robert replied.
“Well, it’s come and gone, Chum. I s’pose I shouldn’t dwell on it.”
Robert was silent.
“Here, don’t let it worry you.”
“All things which concern you, concern me, my dear.”
“Look at this lovely day,” Mr. Punch said as brightly as he could. “Ain’t a day to waste on such things.”
Robert smiled.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“I want you to rest.”
“I can rest while we walk.” Punch stood up.
“That’s not quite what I had in mind.” Robert shook his head.
“Come on, Chum. I’ll tell ya all ‘bout the costumes and all.”
“You sure you’re well enough?”
“Never better.” Punch winked.
“As you wish.” Robert rose. “Come, Toby.”
As the terrier, the doctor and the Duke wandered toward the clearing, a dark-haired man stood atop the central tower and watched their progress.
Did you miss Chapters 1-98? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 100 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square.
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