When I began A Recipe for Punch, as I had with the other online novels, I started a chapter archive for the new story. There, you will find a brief synopsis for each of the first 122 chapters as well as a link to the chapter itself.
As I begin to recap the chapters which have already been posted, I'll be relying on the chapter archive to write those synopses. If you'd like to get a head start in reminding yourself about what's already happened, that's the place to start.
Over the next few days, I'll be posting recaps of the already posted chapters of A Recipe for Punch so that we can all catch up with what has happened with Mr. Punch, Robert, and their pals during their eventful journey to Fallbridge Hall in Yorkshire.
Chapter 122
The Notion
"Mr. Quick wants to see ya," Hargrave growled at Gregory outside the entrance to the servants' hall.
"Cor! Keep your voice low, you fool." Gregory snapped. "His Grace has his supporters in there. They'd, every one of 'em, love to go to 'im with word that I've been summoned to the parson's."
"Let them hear." Hargrave laughed. "They'll be pressed, they will, the bring word to the Duke."
"Well, odd's fish." Gregory smirked. "Why's that, then? Last I knew, he was just about the estate lookin' for the lobster woman. Now she's come to roost, what's to keep the little nancy from returnin' to his spot at the head o' the table?"
"I got' im, that's what." Hargrave grinned. "Got 'im and handed 'im over to Mr. Quick."
Gregory's eyes widened. "Whatever for? That weren't part o' the scheme."
"Maybe not at first, but none o' this has unfolded as Mr. Quick 'ad planned. Now, did it?"
Gregory shook his head.
"Why'd I go to all the trouble, then, of bringin' out the Pepper boy and that Perkins, if the vicar ain't gonna use 'em? And, what o' Charlotte? That's a waste, then. Isn't it?"
"No, no. You misunderstand. The Perkins lad can be used fine, and Charlotte, too. Ain't your fault that George Pepper got free. It's only that Mr. Quick's got the notion that..." He leaned in and whispered. "The duchess might benefit from bein' given her son's heart."
"Oh, fine." Gregory nodded. "So, seems to me that Quick's all right. What's he want me for?"
"Dunno," Hargrave shrugged. "Just sent me to fetch ya."
"I'll be 'round shortly." Gregory replied. "He's at the parsonage, then?"
"Nope." Hagrave shook his head.
"The chapel?"
"Nay."
"Well, then, man...where am I to go?" Gregory asked.
"That's it, Gregory, I canno' tell ya." Hargrave answered.
Gregory scowled. "Then, how am I to know how to get to Quick?"
"You'll have to come with me."
"I cannot go now. I can feel all the eyes in the servants' hall on me through the window. If I go off with ya, people will talk. Maybe the Duke's not a problem, but his maryann is about, so is the Lobster Woman, and furthermore, all 'is ever-so-loyal staff. Not to mention the sister..."
"That's enough, Gregory." Hargrave grumbled.
"I'm merely tryin' to..."
"You don't gotta come with me now. That's what I'm tryin' to tell ya."
"Oh. When, then?"
"After ya nicked something for us." Hargrave smiled. "I'll give ya an hour. When ya done it, I'll come and meet ya at the far end o' the courtyard, and, I'll take ya to Mr. Quick."
"Here, what ya want me to steal?" Gregory asked.
"The baby." Hargrave grinned.
Did you miss Chapters 1-121 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 123.
Chapter 121
Toil
Once Matthew had learned of Lennie's desperate and rash moment with the paper knife, there was nothing that would have kept him from his fiancee's side. Not even his friendly loyalty to Punch was enough to convince the man to continue to assist with the search.
As Matthew rushed back to the Hall, Charles leaned in and whispered in Robert's ear. "It's for the best, Sir. Poor man meant no harm only he was just in the way."
"I've often wondered," Robert shook his head. "How it's possible that the man had such a successful career in the military, inept as he is."
"Money, Sir." Charles answered. "Gold makes a success of everyone."
"Gold." Robert muttered.
"Not to fear, Your Lordship. We will find His Grace."
Robert nodded slowly.
"That groom, Eli, has told me about some of the more hidden parts of the estate where he's seen Causer and Hargrave before. Seems there's a place east of the stables where the two have been known to take some of the more round-heeled farmer's daughters." Charles explained.
"I can't imagine Hargrave wanting to bring His Grace to his trysting place."
"If he thought he could hide the Duke away there..." Charles answered.
"I suppose." Robert sighed. "Do you know where to go?"
"I do, Sir." Charles replied.
The two men walked toward the stables.
"What of the folly?" Robert asked. "That's where Morgana had been kept. She's told me that that's where Jackson and Blessum had stashed the bodies. Perhaps we should start there."
"We've already been, Your Lordship." Charles shook his head. "It's empty of anything except dirt and cobwebs."
Robert scowled. He reached out and grabbed Charles by the shoulder to stop him from walking.
"What do you think, Sir?" Charles asked.
"I think we should pause a moment, and reconsider what we're doing." Robert said quickly. "We have considered this from our own manner of thought. Our conclusions are suppositions are based on our own logic. We must, instead, try to think like these mad people. While we cannot call their thoughts logical, they are nonetheless what we must adopt."
"I think I understand." Charles replied. "For we can conclude that, as you said, Hargrave would not carry His Grace to the place wherein he entertains his female conquests. After all, he would not care to spoil the place."
"Correct. Hargrave considers these barbaric acts part of his work, his duty. He carries out the orders given him by Quick and Jackson. Yes, he is part of this...cult...this cabal which worships the beastly duchess. However, he is not one of the leaders. His belief is based on his own comforts and maintaining them. It's not as fierce and all encompassing as the others. Hargrave knows only that he can benefit from it. Since this is nothing but another duty to him, Hargrave would have taken my dear Punch not to a place where in spends happy, intimate moments, but to a place of toil and work."
"Where might that be, Sir? I do not know the place well enough."
"Nor do I." Robert shook his head. "However, I know how we might deduce such a place."
Did you miss Chapters 1-120 of A Recipe for Punch. If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 122.
Chapter 120
A Stain on the Blood
Mr. Quick inhaled sharply, his long, thin nostrils vibrating beneath his slender, fin-like nose. "Nothing but problems," he despaired. Shaking his head, he repeated it. "Nothing but problems."
He walked over to the low sofa where he had bound Mr. Punch. "Your mother, I'm sure, is quite frustrated with me. I can hear her curses carried on the breeze. Still," he ruffled Punch's hair, "now, I think we have everything as it should be. Truly, this most recent change of plans should delight her so."
Punch looked up, his eyes wild above his gagged mouth.
"Do try to keep yourself calm, little mandrake." The parson continued. "There's no point in becoming upset. I know how you nancy men enjoy a good tantrum, but it won't do you any good."
Pulling a chair over from another corner of the back parlor of the vicarage, he saw next to Punch.
"Can you feel it?" Quick asked. He paused to wait for a response that he knew couldn't come because of the messy gag in Punch's mouth. "You can thank Mr. Jackson for that. It was he who perfected that elixir. Your mother and I--for all our studies of the powers of plants and herbs--could never quite find the right balance. It was Jackson who deduced the right measurements. The dosage he used on your sister...your half-sister...was too strong. This, I think, was just enough. Furthermore, it really should be taken orally, as opposed to directly into the blood. That was the mistake he made with your sister. Just so you know, he did that all on his own--the comb. I had no idea he'd dipped the teeth in it. He must have done that some time ago. I suppose he meant it as an emergency measure--for security--in case anyone tried to move Her Grace."
Punch groaned.
"It's too much for you, isn't it?" Quick nodded. "You're not equipped for the rigors of a Dukedom. We've all known about your problems for a long time. I don't just mean your perversion. No. Though we've known about that for just as long, that is not to which I refer. No, I mean your affliction. Your sickness of the mind. Many is the time I saw you, even as a lad, standing in the folly tower, talking to yourself--dragging that little puppet around with you. It angered your mother so. Oh, to have her eldest child and only son exhibit the manner of a madman. Still, she resolved herself to it in time. She correctly figured that it was the effects at having mated with someone such as Sir Colin Molliner. The very thing that had made him passably attractive--his intellect--made him an unsuitable father. Wisdom is like a stain on the blood. One should never breed with a scholar. Their minds are peculiarly formed. It doesn't make for strong children. Of course, Her Grace had hoped that Lady Barbara might be her recompense--that she might somehow make up for the utter disappointment for her first child. But, no. Barbara's just as mad as you are. I'd hoped that this new girl you'd brought with you might be somewhat more like your mother. But, no. You've corrupted her. She's lost. The only salvation we have, oddly enough, was brought to us by Barbara. So, maybe the little harlot wasn't as much of a waste as we thought."
The parson stroked Punch's cheek.
"You feel cooler. I can tell the elixir is working. Do you feel as if your limbs are heavy, leaden? That's what it will do. You'll be perfectly awake, yet paralyzed. I'm not sure if you'll feel anything. In part, I wish you would. Still, it might be considered inhumane, if you did. I've no way of knowing. No one to whom we've ever given it has lived to tell us about the experience. Just know that you'll be aware of all that transpires."
Quick sighed again.
"I'd not intended to utilize you. If your aunt and the others had been more cooperative, we wouldn't have had to. Now, with you here, however, we have all we need. And, truly, it did work out for the best. To be able to give your mother a strong heart--one of her own bloodline--will assure us success. With Charlotte's lovely...femininity and the young skin from that Perkins boy (and, yes, I do think we can salvage some from William), and the addition of some of your smooth, white flesh, we should have all we need. Except one thing, but that's coming... Well, two things."
Again, the parson stroked Punch's cheek, this time letting his hand slip down to his shoulder and chest.
"You are an attractive specimen. I'll give you that. Though you've got that Molliner ginger hair, and your eyes are certainly wild, the rest of you is rather handsome. At least you did inherit your mother's beauty." He leaned in, to look at Punch squarely in the eyes.
"You now of course, that we'll still need your auntie's face." He shrugged. "Luckily, Hargrave is strong, and I'm clever. We'll get it yet. I'd been worried about some of the signs of age she's begun to exhibit. She didn't take as much care with her toilette as your mother did. How could she, of course? It's amazing she's managed to keep herself clean at all with those horrid claws of hers. Then, I realized that the condition of her face doesn't really matter because--and this really is clever of me--I concluded that her youth and beauty can be restored. All we need is new blood. It'd have to be of the same bloodline. But, new, fresh, young blood!"
Punch tried to wriggle free of his bondage, but found that, as the Parson had said, he could not move his limbs.
"You brought the solution to me yourself, you fey, little ginger Duke. Your son. Well, he's not really your son since you didn't sire him. Your whore sister did. Nonetheless, you brought him to us. He'll be perfect! His blood is just the tonic we need. Furthermore, we'll be doing him a service by killing him and releasing him into God's hands. How could he ever expect to have a normal life, being raised by a madman and his maryann? Besides, he's likely going to be mad anyway. Yes, it'll be a blessing to him to serve such a noble purpose and then be given to God." Quick scratched his nose. "Have you had him christened?"
Punch tried to yelp, but could not.
"No matter, I'll do it before the ritual."
He caressed Punch again.
"What a pity. When we poured the elixir down your throat, we spoiled your waistcoat and cravat. Perhaps the stains can be washed out. Causer had said he wanted your clothes when we'd finished."
Did you miss Chapters 1-119 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 121.
Chapter 119
Reason
As Robert stalked the grounds in search of Punch, Charles and Matthew, he couldn't help, but thing that he should have been more vocal in his protests against Punch (and the others) going off on their own. Now, Morgana was back, and while her captors were still at large, at wast the main objective had been met--they'd gotten their auntie back. There was no reason for Punch (and the other two men, Robert figured) to be out there on their own.
Punch would be overjoyed by this, Robert thought. Of course, that joy would quickly fade when he learned of Lennie's rash suicide attempt.
Robert sighed, silently castigating himself. He should have insisted that Punch remain at the Hall with him. Now he was out where he was a clear target for those who wished to do them harm.
Shaking his head, Robert muttered. "Always wishing to save everyone, dear Punch."
His mind wandered to another day, almost two years before during their trip to America, when he and Punch had disagreed about the best way to help someone dear to them. Punch's footman, Naasir, had volunteered himself as a sacrifice in order to spare Punch the wrath of a murderous woman--Iolanthe Evangeline, the woman who had killed Punch's mother. Punch had been adamant that he would stop Naasir from essentially giving himself over to be killed, and, Robert was of the mind that Naasir could not be stopped.
Robert could hear their conversation again as if he were living it all over.
“Do you remember what I told you on the ship?” Robert had said slowly.
“You said a lot of things on the ship,” Mr. Punch smiled. “Some of them I wasn’t ‘round for, some of ‘em, I was. Can’t ‘xpect me to remember all of ‘em.”
“When we met?” Robert responded patiently. “When we met again on the ship?”
“Said that you understood me.” Mr. Punch had answered, his smile fading. “Said you knew me.”
“What am I to you, Mr. Punch?” Robert asked, his eyes growing moist.
“You’re me chum.” Mr. Punch whispered.
“I’m your champion.” Robert said, swallowing hard. “Now, listen to me, dear Punch. For whatever reason—and, I don’t wholly understand it myself—I’ve decided that above all else, your safety is my priority. I’ve sworn to you—I’ve sworn my loyalty. I’m here to protect you, and I hope to…I hope…oh, I don’t know. I hope we’re around each other for many years to come—all three of us, Julian, you and me. And, all of the things that go with it—Toby and your puppet and our family.”
“In me master’s house in Belgravia…walkin’ to Covent Garden to see the other Mr. Punchs and eatin’ Turkish Delight from a paper cone.” Mr. Punch mumbled.
“All of that, Mr. Punch.” Robert said sternly. “Now, do you seriously think that I’m going to let you offer yourself to Iolanthe Evangeline in exchange for Naasir?”
Returning to his present, Robert inhaled lungs full of the cold damp air, and shook his head so as to dislodge the memory.
"I haven't kept my word," Robert mumbled as his pace quickened. "I swore to him that his safety is my priority. How could I have let him go off with Charles and that idiot Matthew?"
The sickly, weak feeling of guilt bubbled up in Robert's stomach, and he felt as though he might vomit.
The feeling abated, however, when Robert spotted three figures walking ahead. He spot at once, even from a distance, that one of them was Charles, tall and lean in his livery. One of the others was Matthew--a blurry shape of twead. Surely, the third, the one dressed in dark green, was Punch.
As Robert ran toward them, he tried to remember if Punch had been wearing his dark green breeches and coat that day. Robert could have sworn that his companion had been attired in a rusty hue, a russet which looked quite handsome with Punch's dark auburn hair.
Robert squinted ahead. Was the third man's hair...was it auburn?
No.
"Your Lordship!" Charles called out as he spotted Robert running toward them.
"Where's His Grace?" Robert panted.
"I say, Robert," Matthew began.
"Where is Punch?" Robert barked as he reached them, grabbing Matthew by the shoulders.
"Come now, we'll explain everything." Matthew sputtered.
"Tell me now!" Robert shouted.
"Lost, Sir." Charles gulped.
"How?" Robert screamed.
The men were silent.
"Answer me!" Robert demanded.
The third man spoke up. "Lord Colinshire, I saw His Grace fall into the hands of Mr. Causer and Mr. Hargrave."
"And you all did nothing to stop it?" Matthew bellowed.
"We tried," Charles began.
Robert turned back to the stranger. "Who are you?"
"I'm one of the grooms, Sir. Eli is what I'm called. I were at the stables when..."
"Robert, we'd gone to get some horses, thinking that we could cover more ground if we were not on foot." Matthew explained. "Punch had gone off on his own for a moment to relieve himself."
"That's when I saw Mr. Hargrave grab him. He and Mr. Causer." Eli added. "I dried to give chase, but, they'd got 'im on a cart and pulled a burlap bag over 'is poor head. Oh, he fought, His Grace did. But, they beat 'im."
Robert balled his hands into fists. "What direction did they take?"
"This way," Charles answered.
He looked to Eli, "Go back and ready some horses for us, please."
Eli nodded. "I will, Sir, only where you're goin', a horse ain't gonna go."
Did you miss Chapters 1-118 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 120.
Chapter 118
The Promise of Home
"Morgana!" Robert gasped as Maudie and George Pepper led Morgana into the passage outside of Lennie's room. He quickly embraced her, still trying to be gentle so as not to hurt her back, tears springing into his eyes. "However did..."
"Three of the young men from the g...g..gardens helped me to escape."
"Are you harmed?" Robert released the woman. He looked at her arms which were raw from the canvas ties which had bound her. "You are..."
"No, it's no...nothing with which I can't cope. I had far worse in the traveling show, I assure you."
"Still...I'll call for Gamilla or Violet...we..." Robert began.
"Not now," Morgana shook her head. "We must look after Lennie. Please tell me that you were able to save her."
"I hope that I have," Robert answered sadly. "But, however did you know?"
"When those kind young men carried me out, we came upon Mr. Jackson and Ivy who taunted me with the news that Lennie had tried to...to...take her own life." Morgana gulped. "Robert, why...why would she do such a thing?"
"The state of affairs in our household, the ordeal she'd been subjected to thanks to Jackson, everything...she was quite depressed by it all."
"But, it's not like her. Is it?"
"No, not at all. Nonetheless, what's gone on would be enough to drive the strongest of us to such an act. She confessed to Gamilla earlier that she felt as though she was responsible for the whole thing."
"This is talk for family," Maudie interjected from where she and George still stood behind Morgana. "We should take our leave, Sir."
"Do stay." Robert said quickly. "We have all suffered together. That, more so than blood," he winced at the word, thinking of the state in which he'd found Lennie--the life pouring thick and red from her arms into murky pools on the floor. "That, makes us family."
"George was long my companion in our captivity." Morgana looked affectionately at the young man behind her. "Without him, I'd be quite lost."
"I still wish to know how you escaped." Robert leaned in.
"I shall tell you all about it. For now, th...though, let's only say that I'd managed to attract the attention of those kind gardeners who carried me back to the house." Morgana answered softly. "They were shy to take me to the formal entrance, feeling they weren't worthy to knock, even in my company. They br...brought me instead to the kitchens where I was given over to Maude and Georgie."
"We left the men in the kitchens with my mum. She's givin' them quite a feast, I should say." George nodded.
"I'm glad. When they've finished, I want them to come upstairs to me so I might offer them further reward, something worthy of their heroism." Robert responded. "They deserve our deepest thanks for returning our Aunt Morgana to us safely."
"We...we...we are not yet safe, Robert." Morgana shook her head.
Robert's shoulders sagged. "I know, but, still--you're safer now than you were."
"None of us are away from danger until we've stopped those who are working to restore my sister. Where is Punch?"
"Gone out to look for you. His man, Charles, and Lord Cleaversworth are with him."
"So, h...he's not alone?"
"No." Robert replied.
"Thank the stars." Morgana exhaled. "We must find a way to restore him to the Hall immediately."
"I could go..." George volunteered.
"I'd go, too." Maudie nodded.
"No, no. You've both been well enough in harm's way." Robert said firmly. "I won't have it. I shall go myself, with Gerard."
"What of Lennie?" Morgana asked.
"Violet and Gamilla are looking after her. I've done all I could do for now." Robert answered quietly. "Without Punch, we cannot attempt the transfusion of blood which we'd..."
Robert stopped speaking when he saw Morgana's look of confusion. "You've not known of much of what has gone on here--just as I do not know all you have had to suffer through."
"We will soon be able to tell all." Morgana nodded. "For now, I shall help the girls with Lennie."
"If you would." Robert took Morgana by the elbow. "If you're not too exhausted from your ordeal."
"I would endure any fatigue for Lennie or any one of you." Morgana smiled.
"I am also rather concerned for Gamilla for reasons which I can't explain now. Perhaps..."
"I shall entreat her to rest a b...b...bit." Morgana responded.
"I can be of help, Miss Morgana." Maude offered.
Morgana looked to Robert who nodded. "That would be appreciated, Maude. And, George, if you would return to the kitchens and ask the men who saved our Aunt Morgana to please come upstairs and wait for me. When they've finished their meals, please take them to the library and ask them to be comfortable. Offer them whatever they wish to drink and tell them it would mean much to me if they'd truly act as if this was their home as well."
"I'll go now, Lord Colinshire." George nodded, hurrying off.
"If I may, I'll look in on Miss Lennie." Maudie bowed her head.
"Yes, do." Robert stepped aside so Maudie could enter the room.
Alone with Morgana, Robert sighed. "I hate to leave you now, only my dear Punch is..."
"Go, Robert." Morgana held up a pincer without a hint of self-consciousness. "Go and bring our Punch home to us. He is our heart. We need him. You more so, even, than the rest of us. He is, a...af...after all, your..." She paused to think of the right word. "He's really your husband."
Robert nodded.
"Find him, bring him and Charles and Lord Cleaversworth home so Punch may be reunited with you and your son, so His Lordship may take his place at Lennie's side and so Charles might one day find the happiness that Gerard has found. I ha...have heard the way Violet speaks of him."
"I will return." Robert hugged Morgana again.
"Do so quickly and safely and with your beloved and your friends."
Robert went off to find Gerard so they might search for Punch and the others as Morgana quietly entered Lennie's room.
In the darkened suite, Morgana squinted. Draped limply across the bed, Lennie looked pale and phantom-like--her arms bandaged to each elbow.
Gamilla sat on one side of the bed, holding one of Lennie's hands. Violet stood at attention at Gamilla's shoulder.
The two servants turned as Morgana entered, and, gasped.
Gamilla leapt to her feet with a surprising nimbleness given her state of tiredness and her pregnant condition. Closely followed by Violet, Gamilla rushed to Morgana.
"Oh, Miss, they done let you go!" Gamilla cried, putting her hands on Morgana's shoulders--setting aside rules of servants and the family of the house.
Violet, too, reached for Morgana, and, took a pincer in her delicate hand.
Normally, Morgana would have pulled her claw away in embarrassment. Yet, she felt so at ease and was so touched by the welcome that she received, she did not feel the need to do so.
"They did not let me," Morgana answered. "But, go, I did--with considerable he...help."
"We're ever-so glad you're with us again. I'm only sorry that you had to come home to more sadness." Violet began.
Morgana glanced at Lennie. "My poor niece..."
"Been driven mad by those horrible folk," Violet spat. "This is their fault." She noticed the welts on Morgana's arms. "We shall all soon show the scars of their wickedness." Releasing Morgana's pincer, Violet dabbed her eyes as she began to cry. "This...what she done...this ain't my mistress. This ain't the way Lady Fallbridge acts or things. This house, and those people...they did this to her."
"We're all under the spell of this house and the wickedness of those vipers who done made it their nest. The whole place should be pulled down stone by stone and the earth sown with lavender and salt and sage." Gamilla added. "We done all ought to leave her, throwin' torches behind us to burn the disease off the land, and, go home."
"His Grace had the right idea," Violet nodded. "We was our happiest when we kept to Number 65, kept the doors and windows locked and took our joy in one another. Now, it's all..."
"Honey," Gamilla said gently to Violet. "We shall again. We'll spend out our days in peace, guided by His Grace and Lord Colinshire. Takin' delight in Master Colin growin' up, seein' Miss Lennie wed, watchin' Dog Toby and his rascally tricks, tellin' stories to one another, eatin' Mrs. Pepper's fine vittles, and...and, even watchin' my own child--mine and Gerry's--grow strong and smart. We'll let the evenings fill our hearts with gladness of a day well spent instead of fear and dread. We done got that for to look forward. Evenin's spent by our hearth downstairs, listenin' to Mr. Speaight read to us, lettin' our eyes fill with the beauty of the upstairs when we go. Fillin' our bellies with laughter at His Grace's jokes..."
"And, Miss Morgana's tales o' the circus and her time in the show. We'll all be a fine, quiet family." Violet nodded.
"Today, I'd even be grateful to see Miss Fern." Gamilla sighed.
"We only need to get away from here," Violet agreed. "Now, we got Miss Morgana back."
"Soon, my dears," Morgana smiled, feeling a maternal sensation she'd never felt before. "And, we shall all go home soon."
Suddenly the idea of a home seemed real to her.
"First, w...we must keep up our strength for Lennie." Morgana looked to the bed again. "Is she conscious?"
"Off an' on." Violet answered heavily.
"She might rally to hear your voice, Miss." Gamilla suggested, guiding Morgana to the bed. "Sit and talk with her."
"I'll s...st...stand." Morgana shook her head. "I'd rather you sit so you and your baby can rest."
"I couldn't." Gamilla protested.
"You must. I insist." Morgana answered affectionately. "For well over six decades these mismatched legs ha...have supported me. Sit, please."
Gamilla nodded and returned to her place in the chair.
Morgana stood at the foot of Lennie's bed, gently placing her pincer on the blanket which covered her niece.
"Lennie," She said softly. "I'm here."
Lennie's eyes fluttered and she looked to Morgana. Suddenly, she began to scream in abject terror. "Stay away from me, foul demon! Stay away! You've gotten what you wanted from me. My blood was spilled just as yours was! I did what was asked of me!"
Morgana was shocked for a few seconds, and, then she realized that Lennie thought that she was the specter of her mother.
"Lennie, dear," Morgana said quickly. "It is I...Auntie Morgana."
Lennie fell back onto her pillows. "I will not fall for your trickery. Not you nor the succubus you promised would punish me for the sins you prescribed to me."
Morgana held up her claws. "Look, my d...dear. I am your Auntie."
"Auntie?" Lennie gasped.
"Yes." Morgana nodded.
"Oh..." Lennie wept. "Auntie, I wish to go home!"
Morgana sat on the bed. "We soon shall, my darling niece. We soon shall."
Did you miss Chapters 1-117 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back on Monday for Chapter 119.
Chapter 117
The Center Ring
As the young men from the garden threw themselves into the folly door, slamming with all their might and using their work-hardened shoulders to splinter the door, Morgana listened--her face pulled back into a look of both supreme relief and fear.
She could return to Fallbridge Hall, to the arms of her newly-found family.
With each crash upon the door, she could hear Punch's promise, repeated in his gravel-heavy, but excited voice. "We'll all go back to London, to Belgrave Square. Home. Of course, there's a place for you there, Auntie! Did you think we'd leave you here? You're part of this family, it only makes sense, it does, that you'd come home with us. There are lovely rooms for you there. Just by Fern's. When she comes home from school, I'm sure you two will be the best of friends. She needs an older lady about. Never had a good lady to teach her things, poor, sad, strange little Fern didn't. With you and Lennie to guide her, now she'll have a chance, she will. You'll like No. 65--that's our house. It's grand, but cozy. And, there's a huge library full o' all my father's old books. Also, there's lots to do in London what'll keep yo entertained. If you don't want to go out into Westminster, we can bring it to you. Maybe, even, we'll take you to court to meet Their Majesties. They've been so kind to me, and Robert and Lennie, too. I'm sure Her Majesty will love you, too."
Home. Home? Morgana hadn't really ever had a home. And, in London, too. Not just London, but Belgravia. Best of all, she'd have a family. Nonetheless, the thought of going to London frightened her. Oh, sure, she'd been there many times. She'd lived there, of course, as a child--there in Lambeth. Yet, Lambeth in the 1790s--with its narrow streets thick with people and the raucous sounds of the circus--was nowhere near Belgravia of the 1850s.
When had she last been in London? Surely, it had been two years ago--the last time the curiosities show set up camp in the same, tired spot down from where Astley's Amphitheater stood--well, now it was... Hmmm... She'd heard that a man named Cooke had bought the land and restored the amphitheater after the most recent of many fires. That had been just before Mr. Quick had found her.
Mr. Quick...
She panted as the excitement and relief gave over completely to the fear which had burbled inside of her.
Was she really free? Were any of them? With Quick and Jackson, Ivy and Gregory, Causer and Hargrave still roaming the estate--could they be free? Would she be able to go home with Punch and Robert and Lennie? Would any of them be able to leave Fallbridge Hall?
And, what of those young men from the garden. They'd seen her from a distance, and, then, only saw her face. What would they do when they broke through the door, shattered the lock, and climbed the tower to her rescue? Would they recoil in horror at the sight of her pincers? Would they gag when they first glanced upon her hunchback or her deformed leg? Would they even take her with them or would they leave her to rot with William and Charlotte, and...and the grubby casket which held the mummified remains of her sister.
She would soon have her answer.
The sound of the door giving way was followed by frantic, masculine voices.
"There!" One said. "The stairs do be there!"
"Cripes!" Another shouted. "What's there?"
"Oh, it's that bad." The third moaned. "It's bodies. Young William from up t' the house, and...Lord! It's Miss Lottie!"
"No, it ain't!" The second exclaimed.
"But, it is. Poor Lottie. She never done no one harm."
"We can't worry for the dead now, there's a lady up there!" The first urged.
The sound of their muddy boots on the stairs made Morgana want to, at once, hide and scream for salvation.
"Saints preserve us!" A young man with a sun-burnt face shouted when he saw Morgana. "It's the duchess! Alive again and before us!"
"Your Grace," The second bowed.
"I...I...I'm not..." Morgana stammered.
"No, she ain't." The third whispered. "Sure, it's the duchess' face, but, look..."
The three noticed Morgana's trunk-like leg poking out from the hem of the teagown--now torn and filthy--which Lennie had given her.
"You, poor soul, Miss." The tallest of the men came forward. "Who done this to you?"
"The Parson Quick." Morgana answered. "And, Mr. Jackson, Miss Blessum and Hargrave."
"Bleedin' bastards the lot o' em," The sunburnt man shook his head. "Cor! Your arms are bound. He looked to one of his companions. Give us your knife, then, Larry."
Larry, as he had been called, handed his knife to the man who cut the canvas strips from Morgana's arms.
"Oh, your poor, wretched hands. Poor lady."
The one called Larry came forward and put an arm around Morgana's shoulder. "Why'd them awful folk do this to you, Miss?"
"It's...it's too much to explain just now." Morgana answered.
"Who are ya?" The red-faced lad asked.
"I am...t...the late duchess' sister."
"I see that you are." He nodded. "Poor, poor lady. Come with us from this place."
"You saw the...the...William and Lottie, then?" Morgana asked.
"Aye, and there's a casket, too. Isn't there? Who's in there?" Larry asked.
"The remains of my sister, the duchess." Morgana shuddered, for a moment, the image of the center ring of Astley's circus flashed behind her eyes.
"Oh, it's too much, it is." The one who had given his knife said sympathetically. "They're a mad lot Jackson and his criminals. We all know it. All of us on the land know it."
"We'll take 'er to the duke. He'll know what to do. Either him or that tall man with the kind face we saw come with 'em. Or the pretty new lady Fallbridge. We'll bring ya to the house, and, they'll look after ya."
"You'd all best leave here." Larry nodded. "There's nothin' here, Miss, but disease."
Morgana wept at their kindness.
"Now, now, Miss." Larry smiled. "Keep your tears for joy when you've been brought to the duke."
"I...I...don't know how to thank you."
"We don't want no thanks." The man who had the knife shook his head. "We only want to see them wicked folks beat at their own game. Made this place a grave, a tomb, with their wickedness. Sure and if I get kicked off the land tonight, I'll say it. I'd rather take me wife and daughter out in the cold than be here one more minute."
"Can you walk, Miss?" Larry asked.
"I th...think." Morgana nodded.
"Only that leg o' yours don't look too strong, and..." The sunburnt lad shook his head. He glanced at his friends. "Let's say we carry her. She's small."
"No..." Morgana began, but before she could protest further, two of them men had made a chair of their arms and gently lowered her into their grip.
With no effort, they carried her down the stairs while Larry supported her back from behind.
As they came to the ground floor of the folly, Morgana gasped to see the frowning faces of Ivy and Jackson as they entered--in shock--through the battered door.
"What is the meaning of this?" Jackson growled.
"Step aside, you ghoul." Larry warned. "We'll trample ya both!"
"Do you know to whom you're speaking?"
"From what I hear, I ain't speakin' to no one!" Larry retorted. "From what I hear, you're not even to be on the estate. Sacked, weren't ya?"
"Let them by, Mr. Jackson." Ivy smiled. "Let her see what awaits her at the Hall."
"Oh, sure." Jackson nodded. "I trust the monster isn't squeamish."
"Such a sight, the house is just now." Ivy nodded. "When we crept in for our...tools...we saw it all, though they didn't see us. All that blood!"
"Blood?" Morgana winced.
"Yes, it seems your niece, Lady Fallbridge, had decided it best to take her own life. Cut open her own veins with a paper knife." Ivy grinned.
"Shut your gob!" Larry snapped. "Don't frighten this lady more than you have! You--murderers!"
"Oh?"
Larry gestured with his chin to the pile of bodies.
"Yes, that." Jackson sighed.
"Please, t...take me to the house." Morgana pleaded.
"Of course, Miss." Two of the three men said in unison, still showing no signs of struggling under her weight.
"Yes, do go back. Perhaps your niece has life in her still--enough to gurgle farewell to her new aunt. But, you won't find your nephew, the Duke, there, Morgana. It's likely you'll never see him again. Mr. Quick has seen to that."
Did you miss Chapters 1-116 of A Recipe for Punch? If so, you can read them here. Come back tomorrow for Chapter 118.
