Come Back to Life
The theatrics of the thunder and lightning finally gave way to the more practical rain which beat down upon the heads of Punch, Robert and Charles as they rushed toward the sound of Gamilla’s screams. Though the rain had fallen sporadically all morning, this particular rainfall was almost biblical in its force. The deluge was comprised of large, sharp drops which stung the tender skin of the three men as their legs ripped through the growing depths of mud surrounding Grange Molliner.
Mr. Punch could see immediately how distressed Gamilla was—her gown clinging to her shivering body as she screamed toward the well.
“What’s happened?” Punch panted.
“It’s Finlay!” Gamilla yelled.
“Did he hurt ya?” Punch asked.
“No.” Gamilla replied. “He done threw himself in the well.”
“How?” Robert snorted.
“He broke free from me. See, he’d tricked me. Got out of the vault, but I followed him and got my hands into his hair. Thought I had a good grip, but he pulled free, unafraid of the pain. Just ran toward the well and fell over the side. Threw himself. Done it on purpose. He wanted to be dead.”
Mr. Punch nodded. Robert and Charles quietly walked to the well and examined it as Punch stayed by Gamilla’s side.
Finally, Robert and Charles walked back.
“If he wanted to die, he did a very fine job of it.” Robert said slowly.
“You see ‘im in there?” Punch asked.
“No, Your Grace.” Charles replied. “It’s too dark and the rain is too thick. There’s no sign of him. With the way the water is rising and knowing how deep that well is, he probably died the minute he hit the bottom.”
“I didn’t want for him to die.” Gamilla whispered.
“I did.” Mr. Punch said. “At first.”
“I jus’ wanted him to know the kind o’ pain he done gave others.”
“This isn’t your doing, Gamilla.” Charles said quickly. “He realized what he’d done and he was too much of a coward to live with it. Only a coward would do what Finlay just did.”
“Charles is right.” Robert added. “You certainly can’t blame yourself for the cowardice of the man.”
“I done drove him to it.”
“No.” Punch interrupted. “Does the sun shine because you notice it? Is this rain fallin’ because we feel the wetness. No. Gamilla, the man died because of what he done. All you did was made him see his sins. It were his sins what made him a coward, not you. If you point to a man and say ‘you’re yellow,’ he’s only yellow after he paints his own self, not because you say it.”
“His Grace is correct.” Robert nodded. “Now, we must get you out of this rain.”
“Are we to leave him there?” Gamilla asked, pointing to the well.
“We can’t very well get him out now. Not in this weather.” Charles replied practically.
Gamilla nodded.
“Come on, then.” Mr. Punch said gently. “Let’s get ya back inside. You must change outta them wet clothes and warm yourself. Gerard needs ya, Gamilla, and it won’t do to have you catch your death of cold. It ain’t only Gerard what needs ya. It’s our Colin and, me and Dr. Halifax, well…and all of us. Everyone needs ya. So, leave Finlay to his own self. He done made his bed. Come back to life, Gamilla.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Gamilla smiled.
The four of them hurried back to Grange Molliner.
When they were out of sight, Johnny Donnan stepped out from the spot behinds the mulberry thicket where he’d been hiding. The rain poured down his leathery, bearded face, streaking through the layer of grime and dust which always caked upon his skin. Those rivulets were the closest thing to tears that would ever pass over Johnny’s face. However, though he didn’t weep for his dead son, he did feel something. Like most of Johnny’s emotions, the ultimate effect, however, was rage, and he knew that the trembling energy in his fists would need to find something to stop it.
And--in Johnny’s mind—that something was Gamilla.
Did you miss Chapters 1-183 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 185.
Mr. Punch could see immediately how distressed Gamilla was—her gown clinging to her shivering body as she screamed toward the well.
“What’s happened?” Punch panted.
“It’s Finlay!” Gamilla yelled.
“Did he hurt ya?” Punch asked.
“No.” Gamilla replied. “He done threw himself in the well.”
“How?” Robert snorted.
“He broke free from me. See, he’d tricked me. Got out of the vault, but I followed him and got my hands into his hair. Thought I had a good grip, but he pulled free, unafraid of the pain. Just ran toward the well and fell over the side. Threw himself. Done it on purpose. He wanted to be dead.”
Mr. Punch nodded. Robert and Charles quietly walked to the well and examined it as Punch stayed by Gamilla’s side.
Finally, Robert and Charles walked back.
“If he wanted to die, he did a very fine job of it.” Robert said slowly.
“You see ‘im in there?” Punch asked.
“No, Your Grace.” Charles replied. “It’s too dark and the rain is too thick. There’s no sign of him. With the way the water is rising and knowing how deep that well is, he probably died the minute he hit the bottom.”
“I didn’t want for him to die.” Gamilla whispered.
“I did.” Mr. Punch said. “At first.”
“I jus’ wanted him to know the kind o’ pain he done gave others.”
“This isn’t your doing, Gamilla.” Charles said quickly. “He realized what he’d done and he was too much of a coward to live with it. Only a coward would do what Finlay just did.”
“Charles is right.” Robert added. “You certainly can’t blame yourself for the cowardice of the man.”
“I done drove him to it.”
“No.” Punch interrupted. “Does the sun shine because you notice it? Is this rain fallin’ because we feel the wetness. No. Gamilla, the man died because of what he done. All you did was made him see his sins. It were his sins what made him a coward, not you. If you point to a man and say ‘you’re yellow,’ he’s only yellow after he paints his own self, not because you say it.”
“His Grace is correct.” Robert nodded. “Now, we must get you out of this rain.”
“Are we to leave him there?” Gamilla asked, pointing to the well.
“We can’t very well get him out now. Not in this weather.” Charles replied practically.
Gamilla nodded.
“Come on, then.” Mr. Punch said gently. “Let’s get ya back inside. You must change outta them wet clothes and warm yourself. Gerard needs ya, Gamilla, and it won’t do to have you catch your death of cold. It ain’t only Gerard what needs ya. It’s our Colin and, me and Dr. Halifax, well…and all of us. Everyone needs ya. So, leave Finlay to his own self. He done made his bed. Come back to life, Gamilla.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Gamilla smiled.
The four of them hurried back to Grange Molliner.
When they were out of sight, Johnny Donnan stepped out from the spot behinds the mulberry thicket where he’d been hiding. The rain poured down his leathery, bearded face, streaking through the layer of grime and dust which always caked upon his skin. Those rivulets were the closest thing to tears that would ever pass over Johnny’s face. However, though he didn’t weep for his dead son, he did feel something. Like most of Johnny’s emotions, the ultimate effect, however, was rage, and he knew that the trembling energy in his fists would need to find something to stop it.
And--in Johnny’s mind—that something was Gamilla.
Did you miss Chapters 1-183 of Mr. Punch of Belgrave Square? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 185.
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